I have 3 kids, who are now adults. I've failed and learned a lot. Possibly you'll relate as you read about my worries, insecurites, joy, unmet expectations, and fear of getting old.
Do you worry about your kids' futures?
Of course, you do!
If you have kids and a pulse, you get nervous about their future job, partner, financial situation, friends, etc., etc,. etc. (How many etc. can I put here?)
So, let’s just start with normalizing this. We’re all worried about our kid’s futures. And, honestly, for good reason. The “good reason” to be concerned is NOT because the world is so polarized, the economy so unstable, and college so expensive (etc., etc., etc.). But feel free to agree with all these things.
The reason to worry is that we have NO GUARATEED CONTROL over their futures. We are guaranteed nothing. No matter how much we plan, teach, or protect, we do not know what the future will hold. That’s something to be scared of.
Is it weird that this actually calms me?
There is no formula. or book that will produce perfectly adjusted kids. And, let me tell you, if I find one, it will only “work” for one of my kids (maybe).
Let’s talk about those parents (ahem…pointing at myself) who had strong opinions about how to raise kids. They made extreme choices that were counter-cultural and sacrificial. They were thoughtful parents!
When THAT parent has a kid who struggles, did the parent do it wrong? Did they not say enough? Did they say too much?
Or maybe, there is no formula and no guarantee. Maybe the Spirit works in divine timing and unpredictable patterns. Maybe we don’t have control.
If I have no control over my children’s futures, and nothing is guaranteed, then why the HECK am I worrying about it? All that does is make today less enjoyable.
Who will our kids become? We can’t know that today.
Will they be safe, healthy, happy, financially stable adults? Only God knows. Literally.
Have we done enough? Probably not.
Does it help to worry? Never.
So, now what? Will I still worry about who my kids will become? Most likely, because I do have a pulse. Is that worry from God? No. Is my guilt over past choices from God? No. How do I know this? Because God is a good father full of mercy and forgiveness, slow to anger, and abounding in loving kindness. The voice of the Spirit will inspire me to love better, not feel shameful.
I don't have total control over my kid's future. Is it weird that this actually calms me?
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3 Steps to Reduce Mom Stress
Yesterday I was reading a journal from my early years of motherhood. I was a little sickened over the guilt and anguish on the pages; always wishing I was doing better. I want to go back, give myself a hug, and give myself some advice.
If Kate from 15 years ago could spare 5 minutes, I would tell her these things. But I would make it quick because there would be a child clinging to her leg wanting attention.
- Kate, enjoy your kids more!
She would ask, "How?":
- When you see them in the morning, and you’re a Zombie monster due to a terrible night’s sleep, look into their big eyes and think, “You are made in the image of God.” And then look for God’s image in them. I promise, it will help! God’s loving image is there, even when they won’t let you go to the bathroom by yourself.
- Be your kid’s biggest cheerleader. I remember deciding I wanted my kids to see me as a cheerleader not a cop. It was a life-changing decision that has positively affected my relationship with them to this day. Cheer more than correct. Encourage more than teach.
- As much as possible, be slow to anger, slow to speak; quick to listen, quick to forgive. These contrasting ideas will help you enjoy your kids more. You break this “slow to speak” rule. You will. But, have it be your standard. God does with you.
2. Kate, release guilt about not feeling connected to God!
I spent so much time and ink feeling bad about not being close to God. It’s good to cry out to God. But, I think I often missed the joy God was trying to give me by longing for it to come the way it used to. Before kids.
Here are some of the ways God was showing up for me when my 3 kids were constantly needing me (& I had no time to meditate):
- In my baby’s laughter
- In chunky thighs (if God’s not there I don’t know where God is)
- In sweaty hands grabbing for mine
- In the immense joy they have when finding a slimy cracker in the car seat.
- In baby arms gripping the back of my neck
All this is God. All this is connects me to love and joy. And it’s what God is providing in this season as an opportunity to know God in a new and fresh way.
3. Kate, you’re doing the best you can right now, and it’s enough.
“I’m not being the best mom/wife/friend I want to be.” That’s true! Let that be true. And let that be okay. Feeling guilty that you’re not enough isn’t helping anyone! It’s not a Jesus thought. Let it come (it’s ok that it’s there) and then let it go.
You’re not being the best mom in the world. True! But, treat yourself the way God does. Be gracious with yourself. Forgive yourself for not being perfect.
I’d like to go back to that old Kate and tell her what a good job she’s doing. I’d remind her to constantly be looking for ways to enjoy her kids and encourage her to treat herself the way God treats her, which is full of compassion, mercy and love. I know she’d have a hard time hearing it over the baby cries and laughter, but I hope she could take some of it in.
It's about me, not my son!
My youngest son came downstairs in an extremely wrinkled shirt — it looked like it had been balled up wet and stuffed in his drawer. I asked him to change before we went to the store. He came down in an equally wrinkled shirt. “Did you stuff ALL your clothes into the shelf without folding them?” He grinned. Yes, he had. They were all wrinkled beyond anything I’ve ever seen.
Let me be clear, I am not an ironer. In fact, my iron was broken for a year, and we didn’t miss it. But, this seemed too far. And I felt irritated at my teenage son. Quite irritated. His choice seemed lazy and immature.
But what I’m learning is that most of my negative feelings about my kids can be traced back to fear. So, I asked myself, what am I afraid of?
I’m afraid this means my son is irreversibly lazy, and I’ve failed as a mom.
I’m afraid he won’t like me as much if I make him iron.
I’m afraid if I do not make him iron, I’m being a bad mom.
I’m afraid if I do make him iron, I’m being a bad mom.
Wow. My irritation at my son was really fear about myself.
This was suddenly manageable! I chose to not let fear plant its roots. I calmly said, “Ok, let’s go upstairs and iron your shirts. I’ll get out the iron and ironing board; you get your shirts.”
I said it so calm, and without shaming him, that he did it without any pushback. Fear did not get the better of me this time.
My goal is not to avoid fear. My goal is, when the fear comes, to discern what I'm scared of? Then to ask myself, Why do I NOT need to be afraid of that?
Why do I not need to fear? Because God is with me, always offering peace, wisdom, and joy, even if my son has a wrinkled shirt.
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Your kids will not turn out as you expected
A wise woman shared this thought with me: your kids will not turn out the way you expected. Her four adult boys are wonderful, brilliant, kind people. But, they’re not the kids she envisioned when she dreamed of parenting.
This sentiment is so helpful to me.
I love my kids and am extremely impressed with them. In most ways they are “better” than I could have expected. But, each of them has something about them that is hard for me.
I don’t say this to criticize my kids, but to normalize the reality we ALL have as parents.
I don’t want to spend my parenting feeling disappointed. I don’t want to have an ideal for my kids I’m always hoping they live up to, even if the ideal seems attainable and RIGHT to me.
I want to parent with curiosity as to who my kids actually are. I want to encourage personal discovery, risk-taking, even failure.
And I will sometimes not like who my kids are. I mean, I don’t like who I am sometimes. So, this just seems fair.
In those moments I hope to be gracious and curious. To show empathy and not judgement. The old biblical word, “long-suffering” comes to mind.
None of us will have the kids we thought we would. And that is good. We get the kids we were meant to have. That brings about a lot more adventure, growth and humility for us as parents. Whew. That’s hard, but good.
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I Don't Want to Get Old
I didn’t want to go to the assisted living home to visit Mike Rose, my friend’s dad. But I’m glad I did.
When I said, “Let me know if there is ANY way I can help!” I thought I was sincere. But, apparently, I meant that I would take my friend to coffee or pray for her. When Kristen asked if I could pop in to visit her dad a few times while she was gone, I panicked a bit. Mike is 73 years old with advanced Parkinson’s disease and extreme dementia.
“Of course I will go!” I managed to speak as my mind raced and my heart pounded.
It’s not that I’m scared of older people. But, I felt awkward, insecure, and a bit terrified of walking into a facility I’ve only been to once, visiting a man I’ve only met once (who wouldn’t remember me).
What would we talk about? How would this help him? Is it too late to get out of this?
Thankfully three other friends joined me for the first visit. And you know what, it was super sweet. Mike seemed a little overwhelmed four ladies he didn’t know were all trying to talk to him at once, but it wasn’t as hard as I had anticipated. It was even fun. I think we overdosed him on sugar, but he seemed pleased we came. And, I felt really honored to serve this man who is my dear friend’s dad.
The next visit was his birthday, and one other friend and I went to visit Mike. He was more alert and talkative. He told us about his dad’s shop he used to work at and eventually took over. He said a lot of other things. We couldn’t understand him, but we still listened. And nodded. And let him talk.
Hopefully, he enjoyed our interest in him as much as he enjoyed the chocolate cake and coke we brought.
His shaky hands and wandering speech are pronounced, but his intense gaze and strong constitution have not diminished. I never met Mike before Parkinson’s. But, I can imagine him on his ranch in Texas, so handsome and hard working.
I don’t really want to get old enough to need a wheelchair, assistance to go to the bathroom, and reminders that it’s my birthday. But I probably will. It’s humbling and scary. Being with Mike reminded me that it’s hard, and it’s also okay. I don’t want to get old. But, I pray my kids will serve me as beautifully as my friend is serving her dad.
And hopefully, my friend’s kids will come to visit me too.
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