This week I had one of those shining parenting moments. I caught one of my kids deliberately subverting a punishment.
This kid didn’t lie about what he was doing, which in light of the past, felt like a win. He also seemed to sincerely apologize. I told him I would think about the consequence and get back to him, and we’d talk some more.
And two hours later, he did the same thing, people. #parentingforthewin
That is to say, “expert” is not a word I think about when I consider my parenting. (Am I the only one who wonders about the secret lives of parenting “experts”?)
So as I mash together a few recent parenting podcasts and articles for you–integrity demands that I tell you my kids fought about an hour and a half before this post.
And one of them got a snowball between the shoulder blades in the kitchen, but y’know, I’m not calling that a parenting fail. Yet.
But I will tell you I’m alongside you, sweeping up tortilla chip crumbs beside the washing machine and taking away my sophomore’s phone (both of these activities done in the last 24 hours).
Looking for doable ways to disciple your children? My first episode with FamilyLife Today offers ideas to build spiritual life skills for kids and encourage their Christ-anchored identity.
We want our kids to love and follow Jesus. In my second episode with FamilyLife Today, I talk about evaluating our parenting goals toward lasting habits that prepare kids for a lifelong relationship with him.
I chat with podcaster Sarah Seefeldt on Rise and Shine Mama about parenting and about some of the important concepts in Permanent Markers. Grab practical ideas for helping your child develop spiritual maturity. Grab our second episode here.
My daughter’s headed to winter camp soon, which she adores. This morning, over an increasingly plain-looking Greek yogurt parfait, she gushed about camp’s breakfast buffet. She loves the free time, the reconnecting with old friends.
But in light of her anxiety issues, and apparently a night last year when she laid awake till 2, she’s already nervous about getting to sleep.
So we’ll pack her weighted blanket, we decided. And we’re mentally thumbing through other strategies.
But here’s the thing with anxiety–a phenomenon on the rise in teens. My husband and I are constantly dancing on the line of dealing with it in healthy ways. How can we treat her emotions as valid, yet manage them without them managing her?
How can we acknowledge her fears, but raise her toward being a strong woman of courage?
What Courage Isn’t
Because courage, even according to the dictionary, is “the ability to do something that frightens one.” Or “strength in the face of pain or grief.”
See, some of the things my youngest son has done, like toddling to the adult pool and jumping in without someone to catch him? That’s not courage, per se. (Not sure what that is? I think the courage is actually required by his parents.)
So often in the Bible, “Do not fear” is followed by this pointed reason: “I”–God–“am with you.”
What’s it look like to raise kids of courage? A few thoughts.
Remove the human shield.
After we were robbed during our time in Africa, a friend wisely wrote me, “The very thing we would protect our children from experiencing may be the very thing that God wants to use in their lives now so that when they are adults, they’ll know how to respond to crisis.”
This is hard for a mom who, if she were Elastigirl from the Incredibles, would hands-down prefer to make herself a human shield. It many senses, it’s easier to act as a force field for my kids’ pain, the consequences of their mistakes, any margin for them to fail.
But–to mix my metaphors here–that would create for them a virtual bloodstream without antibodies.
Our kids learn to fight fear and failure and weakness only by encountering it.
Listen to know what’s underneath.
Keep peeling back layers. Why is your child afraid of test-taking, or lunch at school, or entering a competition? Peel back another layer. What happens if that bad thing happens? Peel back more. How does this connect to your child’s identity? What truth does God say to that false identity? (I discuss this more here.)
Courage Baby-steps.
When my daughter’s struggled with sleep, my husband and I have allowed her to sleep on the carpet at the foot of our bed.
But hey, that won’t work so well when she goes to college, right?
And yet, some nights she enters in tears after midnight.
So we decided to give her an imaginary “ticket” she could use once every two weeks when she’s really having a tough time. The idea was to increase the amount of time between tickets–but her use of the tickets has already fallen off drastically.
That child who’s afraid of the water may not be ready for the diving board. But maybe the progression moves from a parent’s arms, to the Puddle Jumper on the pool steps, to fun games while wearing the Puddle Jumper…you get the idea.
I’m conscious of increased anxiety creating wider neural pathways for fear in the future. I’ve heard neural pathways likened to paths in a forest: The more we tread down them, the wider and more easily-traveled they become.
Along with this science, we also know neurons that “fire together, wire together.” So when your son is bullied by a kid at school, he’s not just afraid of the bully. He can become afraid of school.
So I’m seeking to reward those baby steps of my daughter–to widen neural pathways of courage. When she has a day without using a “ticket”, she earns 5 minutes extra screen time.
Different kids will have different struggles. (My boys get nothing for sleeping in their beds.)
Find environments to create competency.
These are the gifts our kids gain through experiences that reiterate, You can.
Though my daughter has a history with stage fright, several teachers encouraged her to try out for the speech and debate club this year. After a competition last Saturday, she returned with a glow in her eyes–and a medal in hand.
This medal means more to me than some that have entered our door. It’s been won in spite of fear.
If your kid’s not into this, maybe don’t force them and create more of a complex?! Maybe they’re game for that drawing class, or dance.
It doesn’t have to be something they’ll succeed in. Just something that encourages them to try.
Deep breath. (Literally.)
Studies show that deep breathing exercises have a crazy-cool ability to talk our brains down, so to speak, when we’re stressed. (This is kind of cool to me, since God associates himself with breath.)
My son likes the“box breathing” technique: Picture a square. As you travel up the first leg of the square, inhale 4 seconds. Across the square’s top, hold that breath 4 seconds. Moving down the square’s side of the square, exhale 4 seconds (a longer breath out might be more effective). Your child “closes” the square by breathing normally for 4
Model vulnerability.
Vulnerability looks like courage in others–but freaks us out when we have to do it, right? Model the kind of relationships that thrive apart from appearances, accomplishments, and achievements. Grab 8 how-to’s here.
Spend time one-on-one.
When it comes to feeling accepted as we are, there’s nothing like a safe relationship. Grab a treat with your child, or spend time drinking some cocoa and being close. Communicate your unconditional love.
Get dads involved.
Statistics show fathers are more adventurous; more eager for their kids to go out and grapple with the world.
Between my husband and I? Pretty durn sure if one of us leads to “overprotective”, it’s not him.
But I’m sure you don’t need stats. Because you’ve probably heard your husband say something like, “You’re okay! Shake it off!” Or “Whoa, cool! A SCAR!”
Memorize it.
Together, memorize some verses about courage so you can remind each other (check out Ephesians 5:19).
For older kids, R.J. Palacio’s Wonder is a classic (read the book, then watch the movie together). My husband is also reading Corrie Ten Boom’s classic The Hiding Place with my daughter. Other titles to consider:
In my last resource review, I mentioned my oldest was three when he memorized the story of David and Goliath. And it was from this Bible. The mental image of him in his toddler bed jutting out from the corner, the blond ringlets you could stick your finger through, the PJ’s that read “I heart Dad” with the matching striped pants.
“I am not afraid to fight the giant,” said David. King Saul called for David and told him, “You cannot fight the giant. You are too young.”
David replied, “God will be with me.”
That little boy with the cherub cheeks? He’s 14 now.
Admittedly, he’s a little less cherubic. His face has grown so much more angular. A month ago, he passed me in height. And where his whole body used to fit in my abdomen? Now his feet wouldn’t even fit in there.
But somewhere, under that mass of still-blonde curls that flop over his forehead, I know the story of David and Goliath is still in there, reminding him who fights our battles.
Some of the times I’ve felt most connected with my kids–since they were very, very small–have been enjoying books together. Grant it, this was often right before naptime. So there could have been good vibes all around. But there was something about their warm heads smelling of baby shampoo…and boy sweat. My kids sweat a lot. Maybe it’s because they were so rowdy that I loved this time when we were at last not moving or wiggling as much. My daughter was the only one who was much of a cuddler, so finally, we were feeling connected. At one point I calculated we were reading about 45 minutes a day.
And I know I’m not the only mom amazed by the steel trap that is a child’s mind. Before my son could read, he could “read” me, pretty much verbatim, the story of David and Goliath we’d read over. And over. And over in his children’s Bible.