Tantrums
So it seems that Abilene has officially entered toddler-hood.
Since Abilene was born, it's been amazing to see the new things that she seems to magically be able to do each day. There was a time when she couldn't roll over and then, one day, she was on her stomach. There was a time when she could only "swim" in place on the floor and then, one day, she was crawling. There was a time when she could only communicate with us through crying and then, one day, she signed her first word. There was also a time when Abilene seemed completely content in any and all situations and then, one day, she threw her first tantrum.
Isn't that such a horrible word? Tan-trum.
It's here. That day that you-kinda-know-will-come-but-still-naively-hope-will-never-dawn is here. I am officially the mother of an imperfect toddler.
It seems like over the course of just one week, Abilene has learned the word "no," thrown her body to the ground in frustration, cried out of disappointment and discovered just how high pitched a decibel her tiny little vocal cords can produce (at least I hope that's as high as it can get).
Is this where I'm supposed to know what to do next? Because I definitely don't.
Abilene's transition into toddler-hood has caused me to realize something. It's something that is incredibly humbling but also incredibly freeing.
I realized that I'm scared of this next stage in Abilene's life, not because of how she may act, but because of how I think people will see me as a mother.
So far, Abilene has been such a pleasant baby. For whatever reason, her demeanor has been one that cries little, smiles a lot and doesn't mind people holding her. Is that something I did? In some ways yes. Brad and I have tried very hard to love her by responding to her needs quickly, creating environments that she can know she's safe in and showing her affection. But in a lot of other ways, we didn't do anything at all. We just happened to be blessed with a very easy-going child.
So which one is it?
We're about to have another baby. If Brad and I parent him the same way we've parented Abilene (which we plan on doing) but he happens to have colic, suffer through separation anxiety and spits up every thirty minutes will that make us any worse parents? I don't think so. He will simply be a different child. And he'll deserve just as much love, affection and sacrifice as we have given and will continue to give Abilene regardless of how "easy" or "not easy" he is.
Still, the world looks at children and sees them as reflections of their parents or lack of parents, parenting or lack of parenting. Abilene eats like a horse but is still smaller than the average 9 month old. Does that mean we don't feed her well enough, often enough or healthy enough? No, it just means she has the hubs metabolism.
We've all either seen it or thought it ourselves: In a restaurant, a customer swears that the child in the next booth would behave better if the parent had been prepared with toys. In a park, one mother swears that the child who hit her daughter wouldn't have done so if the parent had taught them right from wrong. In school, a teacher swears that a student would have better grades if the parent removed the television from the home. At the doctor's office, the nurse swears that the skinny kid isn't getting enough to eat...
There can be truth to all those. But are we forgetting that we're parenting children, not programmable machines?
Please don't get me wrong. There are definitely some conclusions that can be drawn about a child based off of the way they are parented. Parents have the single highest impact of anything or anyone on a child. But there are also some things about children that are true simply because they are children.
The baby cries, not to manipulate, but to let you know they are hungry. The toddler throws a tantrum because they have no concept yet of what it means to share. The middle schooler changes their wardrobe weekly because they haven't yet figured out who they are. Or the high schooler doubts their parents decisions because they are just starting to be able to make their own.
In all these situations (and many, many more), the child's behavior isn't completely reflective of their parenting. The child's behavior is reflective of the nature of them being a child. It's reflective of the stage of life they're in.
We all went through them. No stage can be skipped. Yet, as adults, when we see a child going through the same stages we went through, we assume that their stage could be avoided based off of the decisions of the parent.
Why do we do that?
Why do we believe that?
The truth is: the way people see me as a mother shouldn't necessarily be based off of how Abilene behaves or misbehaves. It should be based off of how I am responding and reacting to Abilene in that present moment.
I won't be able to control all of Abilene's behavior. She's not a robot that I can manipulate. But I can control my reactions to Abilene's behavior.
It's my actions and reactions as a mother that should dictate how people view me as a parent, not necessarily Abilene's.
Please don't misunderstand me when I make that statement. Yes, I am her mother. Yes, I am responsible for her. Yes, I potentially have the greatest chance of impacting her in a good or bad way. But I can't turn Abilene's attitudes, feelings, intelligence, growth, etc. on and off with a magic remote control.
I've seen families that have children so different from each other that you would never think they came from the same gene pool. Some kids are quick learners, some kids take a little longer. Some kids are sensitive to disciple, some kids are not. Some kids are easily frustrated, some kids could care less... and they could all be in the same family.
The only thing I am in control of is myself. And it's how I control myself (how I love her, how I respond to her, how I discipline her...) that leads, guides, teaches and is the example for Abilene.
People that know our family and see us on a regular basis know Abilene's personality. I may receive a little more grace from them when they finally see her first tantrum (I may not). People at the grocery store don't know Abilene or who she is the majority of the time. In those situations, it's easy to feel like you only have that one shot, that one trip, that one outing to show who you are as a parent. If she smiles and waves at the other customers (which is what she does the majority of the time), they literally tell her (and me) how "good" she is. So what if she doesn't? What happens the first time she does have a meltdown at Aldi (and I know my days are numbered)? Will a meltdown that comes as a result of her new realization that, say, she has to learn to wait for something make her a "bad" child? I don't think so. It just makes her a child.
When that first meltdown comes, I'm sure people will walk away with preconceived ideas about how Abilene behaves the other 95% of her life. A few people with pass by with grace, remembering when they were in that same situation some time ago while others will pass by with glares, wondering what I've either done or not done at home to create such an unruly child.
My only chance at redeeming the situation is by choosing to respond to Abilene in a way that I believe is best for her. And then to own that decision, stand by it and be confident in it.
I can't control what other people think. And, as hard as it will be not to seize in fear wondering what's going through other people's minds at the scene of Abilene's first public tantrum, I don't really have any other option but to take that moment as an opportunity to love Abilene, show her grace (because she's the one that really needs it), and make the appropriate response to the situation.
People can walk away assuming my competence as a parent based off of either her actions or my actions.
I hope it's off of my actions.
Earlier I said realizing this - that I'm scared of this next stage in Abilene's life because of how I think people will see me as a mother - is both humbling and freeing. It's humbling because it means I have a lot of learning to do, a lot of patience to find, and a lot of work ahead of me. But it's freeing because I don't have to find my worth in Abilene's ability to perform "well" in front of others. My worth is found in Christ and Christ compels me to love and guide my children the same way He would. And all I have to do is choose that every hour of every day.
That doesn't necessarily make entering toddler-hood easier, just less scary.
And that's something I think I can be okay with.
Since Abilene was born, it's been amazing to see the new things that she seems to magically be able to do each day. There was a time when she couldn't roll over and then, one day, she was on her stomach. There was a time when she could only "swim" in place on the floor and then, one day, she was crawling. There was a time when she could only communicate with us through crying and then, one day, she signed her first word. There was also a time when Abilene seemed completely content in any and all situations and then, one day, she threw her first tantrum.
Isn't that such a horrible word? Tan-trum.
It's here. That day that you-kinda-know-will-come-but-still-naively-hope-will-never-dawn is here. I am officially the mother of an imperfect toddler.
It seems like over the course of just one week, Abilene has learned the word "no," thrown her body to the ground in frustration, cried out of disappointment and discovered just how high pitched a decibel her tiny little vocal cords can produce (at least I hope that's as high as it can get).
Is this where I'm supposed to know what to do next? Because I definitely don't.
Abilene's transition into toddler-hood has caused me to realize something. It's something that is incredibly humbling but also incredibly freeing.
I realized that I'm scared of this next stage in Abilene's life, not because of how she may act, but because of how I think people will see me as a mother.
So far, Abilene has been such a pleasant baby. For whatever reason, her demeanor has been one that cries little, smiles a lot and doesn't mind people holding her. Is that something I did? In some ways yes. Brad and I have tried very hard to love her by responding to her needs quickly, creating environments that she can know she's safe in and showing her affection. But in a lot of other ways, we didn't do anything at all. We just happened to be blessed with a very easy-going child.
So which one is it?
We're about to have another baby. If Brad and I parent him the same way we've parented Abilene (which we plan on doing) but he happens to have colic, suffer through separation anxiety and spits up every thirty minutes will that make us any worse parents? I don't think so. He will simply be a different child. And he'll deserve just as much love, affection and sacrifice as we have given and will continue to give Abilene regardless of how "easy" or "not easy" he is.
Still, the world looks at children and sees them as reflections of their parents or lack of parents, parenting or lack of parenting. Abilene eats like a horse but is still smaller than the average 9 month old. Does that mean we don't feed her well enough, often enough or healthy enough? No, it just means she has the hubs metabolism.
We've all either seen it or thought it ourselves: In a restaurant, a customer swears that the child in the next booth would behave better if the parent had been prepared with toys. In a park, one mother swears that the child who hit her daughter wouldn't have done so if the parent had taught them right from wrong. In school, a teacher swears that a student would have better grades if the parent removed the television from the home. At the doctor's office, the nurse swears that the skinny kid isn't getting enough to eat...
There can be truth to all those. But are we forgetting that we're parenting children, not programmable machines?
Please don't get me wrong. There are definitely some conclusions that can be drawn about a child based off of the way they are parented. Parents have the single highest impact of anything or anyone on a child. But there are also some things about children that are true simply because they are children.
The baby cries, not to manipulate, but to let you know they are hungry. The toddler throws a tantrum because they have no concept yet of what it means to share. The middle schooler changes their wardrobe weekly because they haven't yet figured out who they are. Or the high schooler doubts their parents decisions because they are just starting to be able to make their own.
In all these situations (and many, many more), the child's behavior isn't completely reflective of their parenting. The child's behavior is reflective of the nature of them being a child. It's reflective of the stage of life they're in.
We all went through them. No stage can be skipped. Yet, as adults, when we see a child going through the same stages we went through, we assume that their stage could be avoided based off of the decisions of the parent.
Why do we do that?
Why do we believe that?
The truth is: the way people see me as a mother shouldn't necessarily be based off of how Abilene behaves or misbehaves. It should be based off of how I am responding and reacting to Abilene in that present moment.
I won't be able to control all of Abilene's behavior. She's not a robot that I can manipulate. But I can control my reactions to Abilene's behavior.
It's my actions and reactions as a mother that should dictate how people view me as a parent, not necessarily Abilene's.
Please don't misunderstand me when I make that statement. Yes, I am her mother. Yes, I am responsible for her. Yes, I potentially have the greatest chance of impacting her in a good or bad way. But I can't turn Abilene's attitudes, feelings, intelligence, growth, etc. on and off with a magic remote control.
I've seen families that have children so different from each other that you would never think they came from the same gene pool. Some kids are quick learners, some kids take a little longer. Some kids are sensitive to disciple, some kids are not. Some kids are easily frustrated, some kids could care less... and they could all be in the same family.
The only thing I am in control of is myself. And it's how I control myself (how I love her, how I respond to her, how I discipline her...) that leads, guides, teaches and is the example for Abilene.
People that know our family and see us on a regular basis know Abilene's personality. I may receive a little more grace from them when they finally see her first tantrum (I may not). People at the grocery store don't know Abilene or who she is the majority of the time. In those situations, it's easy to feel like you only have that one shot, that one trip, that one outing to show who you are as a parent. If she smiles and waves at the other customers (which is what she does the majority of the time), they literally tell her (and me) how "good" she is. So what if she doesn't? What happens the first time she does have a meltdown at Aldi (and I know my days are numbered)? Will a meltdown that comes as a result of her new realization that, say, she has to learn to wait for something make her a "bad" child? I don't think so. It just makes her a child.
When that first meltdown comes, I'm sure people will walk away with preconceived ideas about how Abilene behaves the other 95% of her life. A few people with pass by with grace, remembering when they were in that same situation some time ago while others will pass by with glares, wondering what I've either done or not done at home to create such an unruly child.
My only chance at redeeming the situation is by choosing to respond to Abilene in a way that I believe is best for her. And then to own that decision, stand by it and be confident in it.
I can't control what other people think. And, as hard as it will be not to seize in fear wondering what's going through other people's minds at the scene of Abilene's first public tantrum, I don't really have any other option but to take that moment as an opportunity to love Abilene, show her grace (because she's the one that really needs it), and make the appropriate response to the situation.
People can walk away assuming my competence as a parent based off of either her actions or my actions.
I hope it's off of my actions.
Earlier I said realizing this - that I'm scared of this next stage in Abilene's life because of how I think people will see me as a mother - is both humbling and freeing. It's humbling because it means I have a lot of learning to do, a lot of patience to find, and a lot of work ahead of me. But it's freeing because I don't have to find my worth in Abilene's ability to perform "well" in front of others. My worth is found in Christ and Christ compels me to love and guide my children the same way He would. And all I have to do is choose that every hour of every day.
That doesn't necessarily make entering toddler-hood easier, just less scary.
And that's something I think I can be okay with.
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