It’s Like We’re Both Going Through Puberty
saying sorry to kids without taking back the limit, whether they’re 4 or 14
Lately I’ve felt like I can’t stop arguing with my thirteen year old. I’m being too picky. I’m saying no too much. Or maybe I’m not saying it enough. I am non-stop questioning my own parenting and I don’t like it.
I’m deep in the teen trenches now, but it still feels like yesterday when everyone was under seven. If you’ve got a four year old hitting your toddler or a six year old on the kitchen floor yelling IT’S NOT FAIR, that’s in here too.
One part of me wants to let some of it go because being thirteen is hard and the transition to middle school can be downright cruel. The other part of me feels like I need to come down harder because what if I haven’t been strict enough?
I’m peri-menopausal and it’s like we are both going through puberty at the same time.
The problem isn’t her. It’s me. When I’m not feeling resolute in how I want to handle certain behaviors or situations, I waffle. Sometimes, I’m moody and strict. That comes from a place of “Oh shit. Did I forget to teach her manners? Did I screw this up irrevocably?”
Other times, I’m more tolerant. I will set a limit and follow through but if she needs to stomp upstairs and slam the door in protest, I am okay with it. You have to follow the rules, but you don’t have to do it with a smile on your face.
I feel like when my kids were littler, and I felt more in control and better versed in ages and stages, I was so much better at setting limits and holding boundaries. I had clear expectations on behavior. When they pushed the line, I was mostly calm and firm. I followed through with consequences, regardless of whether I felt guilty about it.
I’m probably looking back through rose colored glasses, but I know for sure that I was a much more consistent, confident parent when my kids were all under the age of ten.
And then middle school came. And high school. Now college.
They grew up and so did I.
Expectations like helping around the house felt easier and more consistent because they were home more. I had time to teach them skills, they had bandwidth to learn and complete them. (More on how we handled chores then and how we do it now.)
Behaviors, even the big ones, felt easier to connect to what had happened before or what they needed. It felt… mostly manageable.
But now, their worlds have expanded so much. Commitments are heavier, expectations outside of home are intense and there is so much freaking friend drama. And that alone is enough to make me want to wave the white flag on chores and expectations because it’s hard out there, and I want home to feel safe and good and warm.
But I also know without a doubt that children need limits, boundaries and expectations in order to feel safe. So… it’s complicated.
But wait, can we go back to talking about screwing up with our kids? Like when I feel like I’m holding the limit… and then I change my mind. Or when I’ve woken up exhausted, snapping at the kids before the sun even came up.
Or when your 14 year old has an outburst that takes your breath away and you snap and yell, “You’re grounded!”
Or your 4yo smacks the toddler and you react out of fear.
Or when your 6-year-old says “that’s not fair” for the tenth time.
When I’m not responding to my kids the way I wish I was, this is what I tell myself:
I’m the grown-up, so it’s on me to go first, even when it’s hard. Even when I’m frustrated and busy.
Last year, after a particularly long rough patch, my youngest and I were eating lunch. I looked at her (still so little but also, when did she start to look so grown?), took a breath and said,
“I’m still learning how to be your mom. And you’re still learning how to be a twelve-year-old kid. We’re both going to make a lot of mistakes. I love you, and I wish I were handling this better.”
She looked at me and said, “I love you, mama,” and then she continued eating her grilled cheese sandwich. I washed the pan.
It didn’t end our struggles on the spot.
But it did soften something in both of us, and it changed our day, and then our week.
How can one little phrase have such a big impact?
Below:
What to say in the moment, and later that day, when your 4 year old smacks the toddler and you’re yelling before you’ve even decided to
The bedtime apology after your 6 year old ends up on the kitchen floor over the last orange popsicle (and the “life isn’t fair” your mom used to say)
The note I slip under my teen’s door when I’ve overreacted, and giving a consequence, softly
How to say sorry for how you said it and still mean what you said
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