Mothering is Hard.

When they were little, I was a model mother. I never raised my voice or said a curse word out loud. They knew that Mama was their steady, gentle place.

The years go by and peel away my cool facade, and my nerves are chipped, my tongue is careless, and I fall short of being the role model I had hoped.

And then, when they creep up to my height, and no doubt have surpassed my own intelligence, their journeys takes a turn that is too reminiscent of my own growing up--and I remember thinking as a younger mother--it would never happen to us. It's the moment when my game is up, my mask is shredded, and I am called out to be the imperfect mother...by them.

It's the moment when the flaws I've tried to escape are held against me by the children I tried to protect.

No matter how many times I share the old saying with my children:

"Sticks and stones may break my bones 

but words will never hurt me,"

 I prove to be a hypocrite to my own advice. Because words DO hurt. They dig deep, and they unearth all the insecurity that a good mother should not have. Or at least, the insecurity I THINK a good mother should not have.

It doesn't take long for my kids to find the chance to remind me that, "You talk to Dad that way, so why can't I?" or "You care more about writing than about us," or "You are a liar. You went back on your word," or... the list goes on and on.

The rational part of me knows that it's normal, not okay, but normal for adolescents to throw around opinions and possibly manipulate a situation to take the heat off of themselves. I know that. But there are moments when the weight of defeat is so heavy on my shoulders that by the time my husband walks in the door, I can barely speak. The regret of all my mistakes, my disappointment, and my  hopelessness that our relationship will ever heal are crippling tragedies beneath a roof where I, in all my other flaws, used to at least be a good mother.

But then there are times, sweet, redeeming times when the children who I've given an obvious ability to speak their minds, also have discerning insight to fess up when they're wrong and ask for forgiveness. And I am usually ready for that peace. It's an unusual dance between a mother and a child--a tug o' war of discord and harmony in this strange phase of growing up. It's more intellectual, and heart-deep than when I'd once coached little tots and said, "that isn't nice, you need to apologize for your actions."

Lashing tongues might inflict scars, but I'm still awed by their willingness to make things right by their own prompting.

While all the mothering I attempted more often than not appears to fall flat on judgmental ears, these heartfelt apologies give me a peek at the man trying to outgrow the child of each of my boys.

And that's when mothering finds a bit of reward. Or at least, some relief from all the mess, all the proof that mothering is not just a sweet duty to infants and toddlers, but its an excruciating commitment to growing people. If there is anything I've learned from raising adolescents and teens, it's the very real, very humbling fact that, mothering is hard.

When Your Kid Wants To Hide

This school year started out great...now it's kinda fizzling. And it's only October.

Have you've seen the sweet video of the little girl telling her parents to stop fighting and to bring their emotions down? ( I'll put a link below.)

Sometimes I just want to tell my children, "Be steady, bring it down." just like the little girl. Crazy high emotions around here....But then I think, oh boy, we have a good fourteen years ahead, all the d-r-a-m- that comes with adolescence to adulthood is in our future as well as our present.

I really don't have anything profound to say today. I am tapped out of any practical, pro-active solutions. The little human beings running around my house have hearts out of whack, emotions flooding their little brains, and outsiders putting a big fat wrench in their plans (and mine) to be A-okay, happy, un-touched, thriving school kids.

Honestly, there isn't anything huge stunting their joy. But there are little things that are making it seem pretty big.

There's the mean kid who pushes his weight around by teasing...I mean...our name is sooooo easy to tease...but come on-- sometimes I wish I wasn't a conscientious parent and could give my boys some zinger-come-backs. Yeah, I could talk the talk when I needed too.

And then, there are kids who mock my son's abilities. The abilities he used to pride himself in--now, he's letting them get in his head. He's agreeing with them. "I suck," he says.

How did it come to this?

Didn't we teach our kids well?

Didn't we prepare them for the mean ol' world out there?

What can I even say to help him? Right now, he just wants to stay home from school. He wants to hide.

And while that sounds like a solution, that's just living in fear.

I have told him that I feel the same way sometimes when it comes to my writing. Like, I am not good enough each time I get a rejection. And believe me...after ten years of pursuing publication...I have had PLENTY of rejections. Seems like a pretty good analogy, right?

But he's a kid. And like I said, his heart is out of whack--it's reaching out for acceptance in all the wrong places. The only true place to find it is up.

 Yeah.

Tell that to a bullied kid....I will have to look up FOR him, I guess.

This mama's heart is being tested to the max...and I just don't feel up to the challenge. Ever felt that way? Pray for me if you are a praying type. I can sooo relate to wanting to hide too!

{Click here for the video I mentioned above. }

Passing up the G Rating: Mama Drama Monday

My boys insisted that they wanted to see the film Boy In The Striped Pajamas on Friday night. Only the two oldest were up, and we were going to watch a "big person" movie together. I warned them what the movie might have in it, that it was about Nazis and concentration camps and hate. And that it would probably be very, very sad. Even though I told them, they wanted to watch it anyway, and I let them. 

During the movie about an eight year old boy who finds out the horror inflicted by his Nazi father as he stumbles into it, I heard my sons ask,

"Who would do that?" and "Why would they think that?" and "How did people let them?"

If you have seen it, you know there weren't many graphic scenes...a lot implied though. And my boys know how to read implications. At one point, they even questioned if it was a horror film because they just didn't understand the Nazi mentality and the sheer brokenness of the victims. The hatred displayed by the Nazis in the movie stirred an agonizing pain in all of us--over seventy years after they held any power.

When the credits rolled, my nearly eleven year old baby boy rolled over and cried in his pillow. And the next morning he said, "I can't believe how sad that was."

It's hard to watch your child hurt because of the suffering inflicted on humanity. It makes you question whether introducing the darkness of the human condition will shade their growing up with a gloomy perspective of the world, and chip their hearts into a cynical lens of humanity's capability. 

Seriously, years ago I would have said, "No PG  + movies until they are well into their teens." And besides movies, I would have probably sugar-coated much of what they asked to know, probably even steering their eyes, ears, friendships, schooling...etc...into the perfect mold I thought would give them a full 18 years of innocence.

Ha. YEAH RIIIIIGGGGHHHHTTTT! We all hear time and time again, that our culture is degrading and our kids are losing their innocence faster and faster. And it's true in many ways. And there are things I just don't think my adolescents need to see or hear.

But I didn't think it through. I didn't think about the valuable lessons that just aren't rated G.

I didn't trust that my kids' own humanity would recoil at evil, and compassion might take root in face of tragedy.

Helicopter parent? Yep, a few years ago I was.

But now? As they grow, and learn, and hurt, I just can't risk keeping them in the bubble of happy endings. Unlike the little boy in the movie who was oblivious to the Nazi horror until he stumbled upon it himself, there is a better way to equip my kids for the depravity out there. I can walk the path of knowing beside my kids, and allow the world to be seen--from a distance, in small doses--using its ugliness as an instigator to adjust their moral compasses to truth, love, and compassion.

They might lose some innocence along the way to adulthood, but if they are going to grow into humane adults, then it's worth it...and necessary...for a future generation of protectors of the innocent.

So this mama drama is real stuff...not just silliness...this is the drama I must endure to get to the parenting meat. The very real life junk that must be processed in a very life-changing way. 

My kids' hearts depend on it.