According to a recently study, 2-3% adults don’t
remember being told off by their parents. Ever?!? Wow... How did their parents
to it? Might it be amnesia? Are they possibly lying?
I remember being told off vividly. Many times. Throughout my
childhood. For all sorts of reasons. In a similar vein, both my parents would
correct me and my siblings – endlessly, indefatigably. They are both teachers. I
correct Digger (and my husband!), more often than I tell off. Though admittedly
they are uncomfortable bedfellows. This is my Achilles heel: I channel my
parents’ speedy corrections and verbal disciplining onto my son’s steep learning
curve in life. My parents weren’t bad – they are just perfectionists.
Outch... Perfectionist. That hurt. I am, by profession of
choice and dreams, a perfectionist. Now I must make sure that doesn’t spill
over into Digger’s upbringing in an unconstructive manner. I am not proud to
admit this, but if for instance I see him struggling with something, I might
just remove the tiresome object from his frustrated little hands, then proceed
to fix it/open it/close it or whatever it may need – and then hand it back to
his stunned self. I’m trying to be helpful, and truth be told, trying to speed
things up to my own adult tempo. But of course doing so is unhelpful, and
rather patronising. For my son’s sake, I should work at slowing down to toddler
tempo, and de-learn these kneejerk tendencies, verbal or not. Train my
patience, and live his pride with him, when he masters new skills.
So I bite my own tongue, and hold my busy fingers back when
they want to help him, before he has
asked for help. Because it is so powerful for him to ask for help when he needs
it. And then I am there like a flash of course. I also try to resist ‘breaking
out into education’, as someone recently so poignantly described something I
imagine many will recognise. Because the connection between us is often lost
when I do. Musings about physics can seem irrelevant and demeaning when Digger
builds structurally insane towers out of Duplo. When I manage to hold back, I
can honestly say, I have been surprised at just how many awkward constructions do
seem to hold up. Against all odds. Whose odds? you might ask. Well, yes … quite…
But I wonder whether I am the only mother who finds it difficult not to
interrupt in these ways.
These 2-3%, who can’t remember being told off, stick in my
mind. I imagine them as calm and compassionate adults, who are also gentle and
respectful in the disciplining of their own children. Who find telling off more
uncomfortable that people who have experience it a lot. Adults or children
alike.
I imagine a world where it was normal to be kind and
respectful. Where it was unusual to
shout at or shame each other. At home, in nursery, in school, at work. Unlike
the ones so many of our children come from. I dream that 90%+ of all of us couldn’t
recall a single episode of verbal abuse. Because it didn’t happen. What
powerful a world that would be.
The 2-3% has as given me a new aim, one that I am sadly
unlikely to reach, but will aim for nonetheless. I’ll begin my own trajectory
towards Digger being one of those 2-3%, and that means starting with myself.
Wish me luck!
Meanwhile I work at letting Digger finish any job that he
has even the faintest chance of mastering himself. It takes time. A lot of
time. But I tell myself that it is actually the quicker way. It is certainly
more respectful.
If I can, and he wants me to, I am there with him. Sitting or
standing right by him. We gravitate towards each other. Our focus is his work, with
the Duplo, the vacuum cleaner, the cucumber he is cutting up or whatever else has
grabbed his attention. I am close enough to stroke his hair and occasionally
kiss him. The world slows down and quiets down around us. Topping up on such
closeness makes me a calmer, and happier parent. To a calmer and happier toddler.
Sadly my poor son has definitely already lost the chance to be in that 2-3%! But if it's any consolation, a friend of mine who maintains that she and her sibling never ever argued as children is now utterly at a loss with her two lively boys who fight and argue at every moment! Our experiences of childhood may have been questionable sometimes, but at least they give us clues as to how we do/do not want to parent our own when the time comes. And yes, with two teacher parents, perfectionism was an issue in our house too, and I fight the same battle to control myself and let my son make mistakes and battle through.
ReplyDeleteThanks, suddenly mummy, for reading and commenting. I sometimes think that loss of control and chaos is a great way of learning. My son is my supreme teacher! Sadly, I don't think he will be in the 2-3% either, but I can dream and try my best … ;)
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
ReplyDelete