Life in the Trenches

Let's face it, for many of us Mums (the ones I talk to, anyway - I am yet to meet a Supermum, possibly because she's too busy being perfect to fit in a social life) life can seem like a war zone. It seems pretty often when we get together we have something to vent about.

I'm taking the time writing this to remind myself who the enemy is. Many of us are full of pent-up frustrations. We have the wonderful moments with our children, but I don't know anyone who doesn't have days when they enjoy their kids just that little bit more when they're asleep. To admit this out loud (or in writing) seems shocking. These bundles of joy are flesh of our flesh and bone of our bones, how is it that the very sight of them doesn't fill us with wonder and joy, even when they are that wee bit challenging? How is it that, in fact, our baser instincts drive us to practically explode with rage over the dirty laundry on the floor, or the third glass of milk spilt in the course of ten minutes, or the clothing shoved hastily in the drawer instead of properly folded?

WHO is the enemy? We have raised these children from helpless infants. We are working to build their character. They are our equals in awesome potential. They are our equals in human value. We are nourishing and nurturing them in the hope and belief that they can become something great if they choose Right. Why is this incredible responsibility and opportunity such a dreary grind sometimes?

WHO IS the enemy? Many of us actively chose to be parents (I think at least some of this applies to Dads as well, even though I don't happen to be one myself). The birth of each child was often anticipated with excitement. Many of us pored over pregnancy books studying each stage of development, mentally measuring our unborn child each week. We planned all the awful things we would NEVER do as parents, and all the wonderful things we WOULD do. What happened to that dream? Is it gone? Are we simply reduced to surviving day by day, gritting our teeth and waiting for the day our Little Treasures walk out the door so we can cuddle up to photo albums and relive the beautiful moments we didn't have time to live the first time round?

My mistake so often is to think that my children are the enemy. I don't say it to myself, and it's horrible to admit, but if I truthfully examine our bad days, by my actions, I am treating my children as the enemy.

I think there are many enemies in the war zone of our lives. Some people, I'm sure, would argue that life isn't a war zone at all. They have a few minor skirmishes, but overall enjoy peace. I'm not satisfied with that. As long as there are people starving, or being sold into slavery, or in pain, or aching from loneliness or broken relationships - as long as there is any suffering - I am at war. I am at war against all the forces to make me part of what this world is. There are only two choices - to be part of what the world is, or to be part of what it is going to become.

There are many enemies, but who is THE Enemy? The enemy is one who was once called a Light-bringer and I now know by the name of Satan. Since most people don't believe he really exists, he is a very effective enemy, especially against the family. He wants us to direct our attacks at each other and if we don't believe he is there, that is just what we will do.

It may seem like I'm writing out of discouragement, or even despair, but I'm not. I write with hope and conviction. My Ally is much more powerful than my enemy. If I depend on God and maintain the vision and dream of where our family is headed, then nothing can stop me. It is when I lose that vision, when it is blurred by battle fatigue, that I forget the real enemy.

Having a vision beyond ballet and soccer and spelling and maths and dirty laundry and dirty dishes doesn't mean that life is going to get easy. It just gives us the courage to keep pushing through because there is a much bigger and better purpose than our children becoming aeronautical engineers. And that vision is for our children as well. KNOWING that there is something beyond teething and teen angst will help get them through OUR bad attitudes and obnoxious behaviour.

I look forward to letting my children know day by day that we're on the same side and marching with them towards a future that is brighter than any of us can begin to imagine.

PS The BEST thing about this vision is the absolute assurance that it is ultimately available for everyone, even those who die convinced that the bible is no more than a great work of historical fiction.

Guilt and Getting Over Ourselves

I have a confession to make - I don't read Chatterbox three books a day. Some days I don't even read her one! Shhh - don't tell Mem Fox, will you?

This post has been rolling around in my head for ages. I forgot to put the bread in the oven earlier, so now, while I'm up waiting for the bread to cook, I figured I might as well spit it out.

Mem Fox is not the only person out there with great ideas about Stuff You Should Do With Your Kids. And don't get me wrong, I'm all for reading to children. I'm also all for singing to them, and teaching them a language, and getting them out in the garden, and taking them for walks, and cooking with them, and teaching them table manners, and early potty training (or, even better, elimination communication), and extended breast-feeding, and large families, and praying together, and eating meals together, and teaching them to work, and teaching them to manage money from a young age, and teaching them to swim, and getting them involved in team sports, and in serving the community as a family... Need I go on? Do you start to see where I'm going with this?

I have days when I get really weighed down with guilt over all the worthwhile things that I'm not doing with my kids on a regular basis. Let me examine what that guilt is really about. Do I believe that early potty training will have a long-lasting benefit on my child's character and emotional well-being? No. Do I believe that stopping breast-feeding two weeks before Chatterbox turned two is going to substantially limit her potential? No. Do I believe that my children will all drown in the bathtub if they don't learn to swim by the age of eight? No. Do I believe that my children will grow up unable to interact with others if they are not involved in team sports and community service right now? No. If I analyse all those points above, I find the answers are much the same.

So why do I feel guilty? Oh, hang on, it's not really guilt at all, is it? I'm worried about my IMAGE. I want my kids to make ME look good to others! Someone out there is going to think that I've failed because I gave up breastfeeding Miss Curie when she was only thirteen months old. Someone out there will think I'm totally slack for bumming around at home instead of taking the kids swimming. Someone out there will be disgusted that Angelina can't catch a ball. Someone out there will think that I'm doing something really wrong when Chatterbox chucks a wobbly in the supermarket.

WOAH! Back up there! Doesn't it mean my discipline is failing if my kids misbehave? Not necessarily - it means they're human and sometimes think "I want that shiny stuff and I'm gonna get it, and hang the consequences". More or less.

Side note here - I am NOT a perfect parent. I've got lots that needs to change. My discipline DOES often fail. But my kids' behaviour at any given moment is not a barometer of my success or failure as a parent.

I'm not writing this post because I ascribe to the "I'm OK, you're OK, we're all OK" philosophy. NO WAY! Quite the opposite, in fact. It is SO not OK for me to base my parenting decisions on how they make ME look. I need to get over myself. Whatever I do, I'm going to look bad to someone. My decisions as a parent need to be based on solid biblical principles. I need to do what's right because it's what GOD wants and what will build CHARACTER in my children, not because it will make me look good.

The bible is surprisingly devoid of statements along the lines of "thou shalt engage thy child in 4.5 hours of extracurricular activities per week" This "deficit" of specific intstructions doesn't take away from my responsibility as a parent. It adds to my responsibility. I have to make a judgement based on biblical principles as to what are the greatest needs in the lives of my children.

A couple of years ago now we started down the road of trying to track down the cause of Angelina's eczema. In retrospect I would have to say that the harder I tried to fix it, the worse it got. In retrospect, I would also have to say that my search for answers was triggered by FEAR of what other people would think of me if I did "nothing". Looking back I think some of the dietary restrictions exacerbated the problem, possibly due to - *gulp* - malnutrition. I'm not intending to launch into a medical analysis, but that experience was a disturbing example of me putting my personal image ahead of true righteousness and truly responsible parenting.

I guess I don't mind after all if you tell Mem Fox I don't read Chatterbox three books a day. I reckon she'll understand anyway, but even if she doesn't, that's not my problem. Now I'd better be a responsible parent and go to bed so I'm ready to greet Chatterbox with a smile at 6am tomorrow morning.