Constructive Criticism?

I have very high standards and values, and I wanted to instill these educational, behavioral, and moral standards and values in my children.  I felt a deep obligation to teach my children how to conduct themselves properly.  This duty required me, I thought, to correct misbehavior with constructive criticism.  My criticism, of course, was well-intentioned.  I criticized because I was concerned about my children’s future.  I wanted them to improve, and succeed in a competitive world.

Consequently, if my child brought home a B-, he would get the lecture about a little bit of extra effort could make it an A.  If she wanted to wear a too-short skirt, she got the lecture about dressing modestly.  If a bad word came out of his mouth, I jumped to the lecture on proper language.  I quickly pointed out when their rooms weren’t clean enough, when their chores weren’t done quickly enough or good enough, when their friends were questionable, when they stayed out too late, when they were on the phone too long.  I told her when a dress made her look fat, when he was wasting his money, when her makeup was on too thick.  I told them what they needed to do differently to be better.

The "Look"

I was careful to criticize the action and not the child, to show them how they could improve.  I was sure my criticism was constructive.  In fact, often I didn’t see it as criticism at all, but as parental instruction and motherly advice.  But my children saw it differently.  I saw one child’s defiance, another’s unwillingness to communicate, another’s tendency to shift the blame to someone or something else.  I did not see that these reactions were a result of my criticism.

Somehow, my children did not feel empowered nor encouraged by my criticism.  Criticism did not bring out the best in them.  It did not encourage a loving affectionate relationship.  It did make them feel resentful and “put down”.  I remember one day when my teen-aged daughter said, “Mom, you always think I am so bad.  I’m better than most of the kids in my high school.”  Instead of listening to her, I went to the lecture about not being content with average.

Criticism and punishment led to anger and defiance,

 or secretiveness.

 I felt increasingly justified in my criticism and disapproval, and my children felt increasingly justified in their resentment or in hiding their actions.

Then I read Steven Covey’s book, The 7 Habits of Highly Effective Families.  One thing he said really struck a chord.  “Seek first to understand, and then to be understood.”  I had been trying so hard to make sure they understood my standards and values, that I never took time to listen to them, their concerns, their beliefs, their standards and their values.

Changing was hard and far from instantaneous.  It is hard to teach without drawing attention to the faults.  But I remember when I was a child.  After cleaning my room, my mother came in and pointed out the sock under the bed and the scraps of paper in the corner.  There was no mention of all the things I had cleaned up and all the work I’d done.  In my mind, my good work was invisible to my mother, and I did not feel compelled to work harder. 

As I made the effort to stop pointing out the errors, I found my children already knew my expectations.  I didn’t have to point them out over and over.  What worked better was acknowledging their efforts to meet those expectations.  Praise for what they did well, rather than focusing on where they were less that stellar.

It is still hard for me.  Criticizing is often the first thought that comes to my mind, but more and more I am learning to live from a position of love.  I am happy to say that my children, as they have matured, have forgiven me, they have grown past the traumas I introduced, and we are good friends now.  I have learned to seek to understand where they are coming from, and astonishingly, they teach me.

Are You a Mellow Mom?

Sometimes it feels like being a mother is being in a continual state of crisis.

Trying to toilet train my first child, I bought a little gumball machine.  I gave her a penny to get a gumball each time she used the potty.  (Not bribery, incentive!)  It went pretty well at first.  Then she figured out that just a drop or two earned a gumball.  She would ration her output, getting a gumball every 15 minutes or so.  I started cutting back on the gumballs.  She started cutting back on the potty.  I took away the gumball machine.  She quit using the potty.  I was sure she would never be toilet trained.  (She is.)  Twenty -six years later, another daughter wrote and asked how to toilet train her daughter.  She was getting pressure from her mother-in-law.  I said I could tell her eight ways that didn’t work at the time, but that all my children are toilet trained now.  She later told me that was the most freeing advice I could have given.  She quit stressing and making both herself and her daughter miserable.

I remember when I caught my seven-year old with some rhinestone dog collars she had stolen from the pet store at the corner.  We didn’t even have a dog—she just thought they were pretty.  I made her take them back and apologize.  Next thing I knew, she brought home some doodads for her goldfish bowl.  “I didn’t steal them, I bought them.”  What she had stolen was a $20 bill from my purse.  I was sure I was raising a thief who would spend her life in jail.  I later learned that it was a stage and that almost all my children went through it, but they didn’t stay stuck there. 

Another daughter, 10, refused to eat her scrambled eggs for breakfast.  I foolishly declared “You can’t have anything else to eat until you eat your eggs.”  I had them there for her when she came home from school.  They were there for supper.  She went two days! without eating anything (at least not at home).  I finally caved.  I was sure she would be a rebellious headstrong teenager and we would forever butt heads.  (She wasn’t and we don’t.  It was a battle that shouldn’t have happened.  She even eventually learned to like scrambled eggs.) 

I woke up in the middle on the night to find my teenaged son had snuck out and taken our car.  I pictured dangerous driving, wild parties, total depravity.  (He is now a responsible adult and a loving faithful husband and father.)

Mothering is hard, but we sometimes make it harder as we shift into panic mode. 

Of course, teaching and discipline need to occur with each of these and other crises that come with motherhood.  We need wisdom to know how to best handle each situation.  But we don’t need to over-react with horror and terror.  With the perspective of age, I’ve found that most problems have a way of working out.  Kids grow up.  If we continue loving, respecting, teaching, and encouraging, they usually turn out alright.  It’s OK to mellow out. 

Some things to not stress about:

1.    Clothing wars.  We had a “dress-up” box.  My three-year-old loved to wear fluffy slips and scarves, even when we were going to school to pick up her older sister from kindergarten.  So what?  She was happy and felt beautiful.  I just had to let my ego go.  Same thing for hair wars.  Hair grows out, even if it’s purple or spiky or badly bleached.

2.    Spotless house and clean yard.  If children are having fun, they are making messes.  Remember your priorities as a mother.  As my husband said when our boys dug mud holes in the back yard, “We’re raising children, not grass.”

3.    Squabbling siblings.  As long as there isn’t bullying, and there’s no bloodshed, let them work it out.  You can give guidelines, practice finding nice things about each other, but you can’t force love.  It comes with time

4.    Picky eaters.  They don’t need to be catered to, but if they don’t eat their broccoli at times, they won’t get scurvy.  Sometimes it’s the parents who make eating a battle.  If you have healthy food on hand, instead of sugary treats, they’ll eventually get hungry and eat.

5.    Germs.  One day I found a half-eaten cockroach in my two-year-old son’s mouth.  I thought he would die from some hideous germ-caused disease.  He not only survived, he thrived.  Science now thinks keeping a child too germ-free keeps them from developing antibodies, making them more likely to be sick in the long run.

Sure, your kids will make mistakes.  So will you.  But love and patience trumps anxiety and constant worry.

I love the song “Hold On” from The Secret Garden.  I’m changing the word “child” into “Mom” for this blog.

When you see the storm is coming,

See the lightning part the skies,

It's too late to run-

There's terror in your eyes!

What you do then is remember

This old thing you heard me say:

"It's the storm, not you,

That's bound to blow away."

Hold on,

Hold on to someone standing by.

Hold on.

Don't even ask how long or why!

Mom, hold on to what you know is true,

Hold on 'til you get through.

Mom, oh Mom!

Hold on!

When you feel your heart is poundin',

Fear a devil's at your door.

There's no place to hide-

You're frozen to the floor!

What you do then is you force yourself

To wake up, and you say:

"It's this dream, not me,

that's bound to go away."

Hold on, hold on, the night will soon be by.

Hold on, until there's nothing left to try.

Mom, hold on, There's angels on their way!

Hold on and hear them say,

"Mom, oh Mom!"

Hold on!

And it doesn't even matter

If the danger and the doom

Come from up above or down below,

Or just come flying at you from across the room!

…What you do then is you tell yourself to wait it out

And say it's this day, not me,

That's bound to go away.

Mom, oh hold on.

It's this day, not you,

That's bound to go away!

How are you a mellow mother?  What is the small stuff that you have (or should) surrender?