lessons learned (eventually)

One happy day not so long ago, I slipped out for a coffee date with a friend (*thanks to our beloved husbands for making this happen).  We got to talking about all sorts of stuff, including the consequences that are natural results of our actions (or those of our children).

My beloved and I have made a long-standing practice of allowing natural consequences to help reinforce important life lessons, as well as or along with logical consequences when conditions warrant.  Many such natural consequences are effective because of the responses people around us have to our words and actions.  Mean-spirited speech or play might result in the loss of playmates -- even siblings -- who don't like being treated so poorly.  Screaming demands for drinkable yogurt or assistance in some endeavor pretty much never result in the desired dispatch of whatever was sought via such a disrespectful address.  In fact, prolonged wailings might even result in the removal of the caterwauler from the common family area because of the potential risk of hearing damage (not to mention sanity) of those in attendance.  Rude or messy behavior at the table might risk the loss of future invitations to dine with a friend who prefers neater conditions.  Backtalking or definance usually results in the loss of privileges, which is not so much a natural consequence as it is a logical one.  Violence toward a sibling or parent usually results in the natural consequence of removal from close physical proximity as well as logical consequences, especially when the violence results in injury, which is the most regrettable of natural consequences.

By allowing these consequences,  it's not that we are seeking out situations to put our bambini to shame or to book them on guilt trips or make them feel badly about themselves.  We are not.  But a significant part of loving these bambini is working to form their consciences, that internal voice of Christ speaking to each of us, helping us to navigate life's difficult choices.  So much of the early formation of conscience is teaching right from wrong, obedience to God the Father through obedience to one's parents and authority figures, and  how to treat other people (and along with that what kind of treatment to expect from other people).  One of the most effective ways of doing this is to allow the bambini to experience the effects of their actions and words, then help them to process those effects perhaps by labeling or verbalizing what those effects are.  Oftentimes this logical progression needs no explanation, although it might take a few (or several) episodes for the lesson to sink in.*

*bangs head against the wall...

Social pressure is a mighty force to be reckoned with, but it is not the end-all-be-all of our existence.  By this I mean that what other people think of us does not define us or determine our path in life or ultimately (and most importantly) our eternal destination.  Our individual identities come from our Creator.  With that in mind, he created all of us to live in harmony with each other, and in order to do that we all have to abide by some fundamental principles of behavior.  This forms the basic idea of "manners," wherein we order our actions in consideration of other people, hoping that they will extend the same courtesy to us but realizing that we can only control ourselves.*

*this also applies to mamas mortified by bambini behavior in public and private venues
in direct violation of long-standing house rules; see above head-banging reference... 

Who among us has had to learn lessons "the hard way", experiencing disappointment or embarrassment for ourselves after refusing to heed instructions from appropriate authority figures?  Personally, I try to learn from the mistakes of others so as not to endure the resulting misery, but there have been plenty of lessons I've learned through the heartache or embarrassment that have resulted from not minding instructions. As difficult as it can be to stick to one's proverbial guns and enforce the consequences of a poor choice made by one of our bambini (not piling on unnecessarily, but not mitigating to the degree that the poor behavior is seen as excused), we would be doing them no favors by not holding them accountable and expecting them to face the music, make restitution, and move on.*

*edging dangerously close to preachy now, which is not at all my intention...

It's a long, arduous process, this business of cultivating virtue by working against the vices that seem to come so much more easily because of our fallen nature.  Thankfully, God supplies sufficient grace to overcome these vices -- even the one that leads one overtired mama to resort to drill-sergeant-like repeated instructions such as "Legos!" "Shoes!" "Napkin!"  "Gentle!" (not necessarily in that order or at the same time) when the selective listening switch has been flipped.    Over the course of a childhood (or four), we realize that the process is not only refining the bambini in this household; it's also having an effect on their parents who have not yet attained sainthood, but who are striving for it every day.

letting go while holding on

Depositing the younger lad at preschool that first day last week was bittersweet for me. It was a long time coming, having debated whether to enroll him last year at age three. That wasn't the right time for him. It appears now is the right time, as he has a spring in his step and an eagerness to return. I am so grateful for his positive beginning, and I pray it continues to go so well. What a happy, fun place his preschool appears to be, staffed by people who truly care for the souls entrusted to them and skilled in the art of early childhood education, in a community of faith.

Spending time with my sister the new college freshman last week made me consider anew the prospect of someday taking my own children to college, depositing them there, and returning home without them. Children grow up to become adults -- God willing, adults who answer God's call to serve him by serving others. We as parents are here to see that process fulfilled.

I let my lad go a little that day, but not entirely. I'll never do that. The Lord may call him (and his siblings) to vocations that entail traveling both far and near or obligate the bulk of his attention to the care of others such as a wife and children or the people of God, but my love and prayers are portable enough to carry along with.

From preschool to college to beyond, parents will always be parents. The roles and responsibilities will change as the seasons of family life change, but the love of Christ that binds us together as a family will remain.

live long and prosper

Were I to label my parenting style, I would probably call it "Golden Rule Parenting" more than anything else -- though I probably wouldn't label it now (I would have in my first few years of mothering).  When I think seriously, though, about the kind of parenting I wish to practice and need some pointers on how to accomplish that, the best answers come from prayer and meditation on how Christ would want me to treat him in the little people whose care he has entrusted to me.

In the quest to hone and refine my mothering skills, I've read a lot of parenting books (though not Dr. Spock's iconic tome).  Sometimes I need some gentle reminders (or reassurance) from "experts" to help me keep my priorities straight and my insecurities in check.  One such person I look to for this is St. John Bosco, who dedicated his life to the education of disadvantaged boys.  He took a three-pronged approach to his "preventive system" of discipline: reason, religion, and kindness.  Don Bosco's religious order continues to educate young people and serve Christ in the underprivileged and suffering among us to this day, almost 125 years after his death, with this same approach. 

Of all the experts out there whose influence can have significant impact on my parenting (good or bad) and, by extension, the interactions I have with my bambini, Don Bosco is arguably among one of the best.  He is a fixture in our family litany of saints.  When I find myself on thin ice, I will often ask for his intercession on my behalf.  When I happen to get something right handling some delicate situation, I can only imagine Don Bosco's prayers might've helped in that accomplishment.

Don Bosco, pray for us!