So, tomorrow is Mother's Day. I'd like to take this time to share the ways I think my mom did an amazing job parenting my sister and me (if you were at our Ankeny MOPS meeting yesterday, you heard me share some of this there).
Let me start by being completely honest. I was a very shy, fairly whiny, closet daddy's girl as a child. My sister is 7-1/2 years older than I am, and we've always joked that we had different parents (though we do share the same mother and father). In reality, she was just an easier child than I was, but our parents somehow became more relaxed as I grew. My sister was the outgoing, cheerful child. When we hit puberty, our personalities seemed to swap. She became more shy, and she told our mom EVERYTHING. I became more outgoing, very boy crazy, and I told our mom NOTHING. In 8th grade, my mom threatened not to let me get my driver's permit unless I brought my grades back up (I had received a B or two at mid-term, and she insisted that I would get A's, as I always had previously). She was convinced that there were two reasons my grades had slipped. First, I was "dumbing" myself down to be seen as less nerdy, and secondly, I was spending too much time pining after certain males in my classes. As usual, my mom was correct. I ended the year with all A's, and subsequently earned my permit. However, I was never more than a day without a boyfriend from mid-8th grade on. My poor Mom. And let's face it, I think we all try at times to not parent like our parents did. Or maybe I should say that we try to improve on some of our parents' parenting styles.
All of that said, there are a few things my mom did that I will be eternally grateful for. These are parenting skills I'm trying to emulate.
My mom taught me from an early age that I could make decisions for myself. Like most parents, she never wanted me to become a follower. I'm thankful that she had me take piano lessons, and I insist that my children will take at least a year of piano before trying any other instrument. Yet, when I told my mom that I wanted to stop taking lessons after one year, she let me quit. I did have my reasons for not enjoying my lessons, and she understood that. A few years later, many of my classmates decided to pick up instruments and join band. I chose not to do so. But, after becoming attached-at-the-hip best friends with my neighbor Sara, I asked to start the clarinet so I could be in band with her in 7th grade. Mom agreed, and our band director happily told her after a couple of lessons that I was a natural. I played first part and/or sat first chair from then until graduation. And in 5th grade, after two years in our school's talented & gifted program, which they called Omnibus (I never figured out why), I informed my mom that I didn't want to be in it anymore. Now that I have a 3rd grader who is pretty intelligent, I can easily imagine that my parents were really disappointed that I didn't want to take full advantage of the Omnibus program. Mom did her best to work through this decision with me, without just telling me I had to do it. She set up a meeting with my teacher and the principal, and they all talked with me about why I wanted to stop going. I finally got them to see that I'd always been embarrassed to leave the classroom for Omnibus. None of my close friends were in it with me; I disliked being seen as "the smart girl." The topics we studied didn't interest me, and I didn't like to miss out on what the rest of the class was doing when I was gone. In the end, Mom let me quit Omnibus. You may be thinking at this point that I sound like a quitter, but really I just know what I want to take part in and what I don't want to do.
Another major way my mom shaped me had to do with books. Because my sister was so much older when I was born, she was able to read to me from the start. When I was growing up, my mom would easily finish four or five books a week. She just devoured them. We rarely went to the mall when we didn't stop in Walden's Bookstore, where she'd always let me pick out a book or two. To this day, my favorite past time is reading a good book. Back in 5th grade, my mom and Mrs. Smit (who passed away last year, bless her heart) had the following discussion at parent teacher conferences:
Mrs. S.: Nikki reads too much.
Mom: What does that mean?
Mrs. S.: She rushes through her assignments so she can pick up her book and read.
Mom: Is she doing the assignments correctly?
Mrs. S.: Well, yes.
Mom: I don't see what the problem is...
Needless to say, I continued getting 100% on my assignments and I continued to get them done as quickly as I could so I could read. I mean, why waste time? ;) Also, I'm so grateful that my mom never censored my book choices. She trusted my book selections completely. I know she wasn't thrilled when I got into R.L. Stine, V.C. Andrews, and Stephen King, but she didn't stop me. I was in 6th grade when I read Go Ask Alice, which blew my mind. I still name that as one of my all-time favorites. My oldest loves to read as well. I've let him know that I'll never tell him he can't read any particular book. I may recommend that he wait until a certain level of maturity, but if he feels ready, he's welcome to go ahead. He knows that he can ask me about anything he doesn't understand, and he has a dictionary by his bed for words with which he's not familiar.
My husband and I are both proud of the fact that we did not drink alcohol until we were 21. That's right, we were legal. I know that makes it sound like we were from crazy tee-totaling families, but we weren't. In fact, neither of us remember our parents ever making a big deal out of alcohol. My parents were not big drinkers; they weren't even really social drinkers. They were excellent role models of having a great time without any alcohol involved. They've been in a card club that has got together monthly for as long as I can remember. There used to be a bottle of wine shared once in a while, but typically, they'd all drink water or pop. I do recall there being two cases of wine coolers in our garage refrigerator. In fact, I'm pretty sure they were in there for over a decade. My dad probably bought them on sale once thinking that someone in the card club might want one sometime. I wondered one time in high school what one of the Fuzzy Navel wine coolers would taste like. Then I quickly realized that because they'd been there for so long, it would be very obvious if one came up missing. Never crossed my mind again after that. My dad would have the occasional beer if his brothers came for a visit (which was once a year, at most). My mom would get a Brandy Alexander ice cream drink at their favorite supper club, Ced-Rel, if we went to celebrate a special occasion. She even let me try a sip when I was ten or so. I wasn't highly impressed. The group of friends I hung out with in high school didn't really drink, so I wasn't ever tempted to try. Believe it or not, I've still never been tipsy to this day. As I've mentioned in many previous posts, I'm a bit of a control freak. I cannot even imagine getting drunk enough to not remember what I had done the night before. No, thank you. Don't get me wrong, my husband and I do enjoy a good cocktail once in a while. I keep vodka and peach schnapps on hand at all times. I love a fruity martini or a daiquiri. But, I drink quite slowly, and I've never had more than two in one night. I'm hoping (and praying) that we are being as good of role models as our parents were when it comes to drinking.
These are the ways I believe my mom raised me well. I strive to allow my children to make informed decisions, read as many books as they long to read, and to show them alcohol is not necessary to have fun or to deal with emotions. I also love that my parents taught us how to talk with adults. Since our oldest prefers to talk with adults rather than kids his own age, I guess we're doing all right on that front.
I'd also like to apologize to my mom for spending years ignoring one of her best pieces of advice. Some time in early high school, Mom pinned a little note to my bulletin board. It read something along the lines of, "The most important thing you'll ever wear is your SMILE." I read it daily, and completely ignored it, especially in front of other people. If I had to be on stage for band, choir, presentations, or whatever, I rarely smiled. I honestly believed that if I smiled and looked like I was having fun, that would make me more vulnerable than I wanted to be. I wanted to always appear in control of everything, including my emotions, and for some reason, I thought that I would look silly if I was smiling. Oy. As a mom, of course I want to see my children smiling and appearing happy in front of other people! I feel terrible for the way I seemed unhappy so often. This struck me my junior year after my National Honor Society induction. A classmate's dad (who happened to be my parents' insurance agent) asked his daughter afterwards, "Does Nikki ever smile?" He was not aware that I overheard his comment. Though it saddened me, I still didn't feel comfortable enough in my own skin to let myself be genuine for years after that. I am so sorry for that, Mom.
There are so many ways we could be screwing up our children. I hope that by doing these things my mom did right, praying with them daily, and sharing lots of "I love you's," hugs, and kisses, they will grow up to want to parent more like us than not.
If you are blessed to still have your mom around, please thank her tomorrow for all of the things she did right! Happy Mother's Day. :)
*For those new to my blog, check out the beginnings of ABC Summers here.*
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