Something (s) to Say, Indeed.

Something I have learned this last week is that no matter how well-intentioned our advice may be, it comes out of our own experience. In order to separate the helpful from the less helpful, it is essential that I change my default setting from "I am absolutely and always wrong" to "I might know a few things, and it's okay to make mistakes." I cannot assume that everyone else is always right, because if I tried to follow every piece of advice given me by every single person, I'd go mad. 

I have a lot of different challenges. My kids, while being quite amazing individuals, have skill deficits in the emotional arena, as do I. We are growing together, and to be honest, those growing pains are not fun. Then someone kindly tells you that one of your children prayed for her big sister, and you realise that maybe you're not a complete failure after all. You realise that if you were such an incompetent adult, other parents wouldn't trust you with their children. You begin to pay attention to your thoughts, and check them at the door for ID. If they're a lie from the devil, they don't get in. 

I am getting so tired of thinking everything is my fault. 

I have created routines, lists, charts - when they are followed, life is calm, and we get along. 

I have organised our belongings, creating a space for everything. It works, until my people start thinking for themselves. 

It reminds me of the relationship between God and man. He had a plan, but his plan wasn't that we wouldn't mess it up. No, his plan included our messing up. Did God hold on to resentment and anger? Nope. He lavished grace upon us by sending his only son, to make atonement for our sin. So I will follow that example. Not the send my only son to make atonement part, but the lavishing grace part. I will keep my charts and plans at the ready, but allow my people to choose them- or not. I will love them fiercely, guide them, help them, but ultimately accept that they must choose, and no amount of me telling them how awesome my plans are will make them see it, until they see it for themselves. 

On a different but also similar topic, can I tell you all how much I loathe dinnertime? I love to cook, but I have one child who willingly will eat my cooking most nights, with the exception of curry. The others, in varying degrees, will not. I haven't worked out if it's a temperature thing, a visual thing, too much noise at the table thing, a that looks too interesting thing, I'm too tired to eat thing, it smells weird thing, or some other thing. All I know is that we cannot sit down to have a family dinner, and I'm constantly reading or hearing that if I don't sit down to family dinner with my children, they will become delinquents. I would love to have family dinners when we sit down and talk about the day, nobody talks about anything gross, and it is enjoyable, and we all eat a nutritionally balanced meal. Nobody crying would also be fairly high on the 'family dinner wish list'. I am sick to death of chasing the perfect nuclear family, even though my own family is quite different. I will not put that pressure on them, or myself, for another moment. I am not 'giving in' to temper tantrums and bad behaviour. I am making a choice to feed them, to fill their bellies, and to give them a pleasant dinner with their family, by not presenting them with food I know in advance will cause wailing and misery. I will happily cook two meals, because I sure as heck don't want to eat off the kids' menu, but I also don't want indigestion from dealing with all the drama that happens when I give them colourful, nutritious, delicious foods. How is that fostering the family bond??? Their memories of family dinners shouldn't be tears, misery, anger, frustration, and ugliness. If there are memories of tears, let them be tears of joy and laughter. I know that some of you would disagree with parts of this, and that the children should just eat what they're given, or go hungry. Maybe you are right. But if you are the sole adult trying to put hungry children to bed, you do what you have to do in order to make that happen. Hungry kids don't sleep well. Hungry kids who don't sleep well are not fun in the morning. Hungry kids who don't sleep well, and have a bad morning don't learn as well. Those same kids come home to me, a functioning single parent, who has to get them to navigate homework, chores, and if you think the afternoon is hard, wait until the evening routine. Guess what? It compounds throughout the week, and by Friday, we're imploding, and it is UGLY.

This ended up being a bit longer than I intended, but I guess I just had some things to get off my chest.

XO, Sarah