My oldest son, Jordan, has always been a pretty good kid. He isn't the kid that talks too much, he can't tell a lie to save his life, he's responsible, and sensitive. He is also hard headed, impulsive, and stubborn as the day is long. I don't necessarily see those as bad qualities though. Annoying to his parents when he is young, yes. But if we teach him right, I think they can be admirable qualities when he's grown.
It's the growing him part that can be tough sometimes.
When Jordan was 5 years old, he and I found ourselves locked in a battle of wills that lasted nearly a week. You see, he was in kindergarten. School started at 8 AM, and conveniently enough, was just five minutes down the road. It shouldn't have been difficult for us to get him to school on time, but it was a battle every single morning. Jordan didn't want to put his clothes on. He didn't want to eat his breakfast. He didn't want to get his shoes, or pick up his own backpack.
"You do it!" he said, over and over and over.
I was frustrated, to say the least. This child was five years old - more than capable to put on his own pants, or pick up his own bag. To me, it appeared to be a power struggle. He wanted me to do for him what I thought he ought to do for himself. How was I ever going to teach my child personal responsibility if he couldn't accomplish the simplest of tasks?
So. I did not budge. (Stubbornness came from his Momma, perhaps?) For three mornings, Jordan sat in time out in the corner of my kitchen, arms folded across his chest, scowl of absolute refusal plastered onto his little face. All I wanted him to do was exercise a little bit of initiative. You know, do something, anything besides lay in a crumpled heap on the living room floor, whining that he just couldn't do it. A glimmer of effort was all I wanted. But he wouldn't budge either. So we sat. Morning after morning, hour after hour, he sat in the corner and frowned. By the end of the week, absences were piling up and my nerves were stretched so thin, I couldn't do anything but cry. I was failing, you see. And I just didn't know what to do.
And then, my Mother, bless the woman, decided I needed an intervention. She called a good friend, a Family Therapist and said, "Please, oh please call my daughter."
Her friend called. I'm pretty sure I blubbered on the phone - not just cried, but real honest to goodness chest heaving blubbered. I might be a little embarrassed about that now, but in the moment, I felt so completely clueless about how to reach my child. I explained my situation, detailed my desire for Jordan to be responsible, my surety that I could not give in, because then my kid would think all he had to do to get his way was pitch a fit. This was a battle I HAD to win, but it had been going on for three days and Jordan was starting to throw kitchen chairs at me, and time outs weren't working, and, and, and... could she see how distressing my situation was?
Distressing, indeed. Her answer was so simple.
"Jenny," she said, "You're getting ready to have another baby. (Henry was due in just a few months.) Every morning, you send Jordan off to school, and then spend all day with his baby brother and sister. And now, you'r having another baby that will also be home with you all day, while Jordan is off at school. He doesn't want to be replaced, Jenny. And he's scared."
I will never forget the clarity of mind I experienced when she said those words. A light bulb of epic proportions suddenly lit up.
"I hadn't even thought of that," I said, tears streaming down my cheeks.
So what to do? "You baby that child," she said. "Carry him to his bed. Get him dressed. Feed him his oatmeal. Carry his backpack to the car, and into his classroom. Brush his teeth. Do for him exactly what you do for his younger siblings. I promise, within the week, he'll be telling you he can do it himself. He just wants to know that you love him the same. Right now he doesn't need to learn to be responsible. He needs reassurance. He just needs a little bit of extra love."
It was so very clear, I was ashamed I hadn't considered it on my own. And yet, I was so involved, so emotionally attached to what I thought was best for my child, how could I expect to see the possibility of a bigger picture?
I needed an outside perspective - someone that could assess the situation without emotional involvement and then remove the blinders that so stubbornly obscured my own view.
As for Jordan, it worked. Within a week of extra pampering, and extra reassurance, my sweet natured, independent little boy, willing to dress himself and feed himself and brush his own teeth, was back.
I learned a lot from that experience. I learned that a child's demonstration of poor behavior may be caused by something that at first glance, appears completely unrelated. In the months right after Ivy was born, for example, Henry's ability to remain potty trained was directly associated with how much time he was spending with me.
And I learned that it's okay to seek wisdom and outside perspective from a good friend, a sister, a mother, or even a therapist. It's okay to ask for help, to admit we might not have all the answers on our own. This parenting that we do, this growing of children, it really can take a village. And that's okay.
