Consistency and a Little Taste of Success--Mother-Style

When I issued this challenge on Monday, I didn’t expect it to affect me the way it did: it has changed my perception of myself as Mom.

As I was contemplating my own ineptitude, so many flaws came to mind: How do I isolate just one? And then it came to me. Many of my shortcomings as a mother can all be attributed back to one near-fatal flaw: I am inconsistent. Why don’t my kids listen to me? Because the consequences are inconsistent. Why don’t my kids keep their rooms clean all the time? Because the efforts to check their work are inconsistent. Why don’t I always read my scriptures or pray or get my chores done? Because I don’t consistently make time to do them. Why does my house get messy? Because eight people and one big dog live here, and I don’t consistently enlist their help. Why does Hyrum throw tantrums? Mostly because he’s three, but also because I react inconsistently. Why do other moms seem to get better results from their families? I witness their consistency . . . and see my own failure.

So this week I tried an experiment. I was going to be Horton the Elephant. I meant what I said, and I said what I meant. And children began to listen and obey, about 80 percent. Wow! It works! Sunday night I sat down with my day planner and made a schedule for the week. When I followed the schedule, I consistently found time to study, pray and work. When I asked kids to clean their rooms, I consistently checked until it was clean. With my little ones, I consistently showed them what was expected, and they more predictably performed tasks the way I wanted. I’ve always wanted them to speak more kindly to each other. But why would they, when I model kind words and tone inconsistently? As I’ve tried to monitor my tone of voice and attitude more consistently this week, I’ve noticed a marked change in the tone of my family. More laughter and less crying. More discussion and less lecture. Still tantrums from Hyrum but less temper from Mom. Have I been perfect? Nope. I’m a work in progress. But the change has been so evident to me that I’m motivated to work at it and make consistency my habit.

As I mentioned in my post yesterday, I had a very difficult time deciding on a bragging point. We as women are taught, for some reason inexplicable to me, that in order to make everyone feel good about themselves, we should minimize the things we do well, even neglecting to acknowledge them to ourselves. That is wrong. We can see and appreciate the good in others while minimizing or justifying their faults. We need to give ourselves that same benefit of the doubt. .

So, after much reflection and thought, here goes: God gave me hard kids. Not naughty, disobedient kids. He gave me noisy, brilliant, excitable, energetic, wild, not-cut-from-the-same-cloth-as-most kids. Some fit in better than others. And they’re all very different from each other, with different needs and struggles. One thing I’ve always tried to teach my kids is that I love them no matter what, that I’m always in their corner to help fight their Goliaths with them but not for them, and that no matter what is going on at school or with friends, home is a safe place for them to be themselves, accepted and celebrated for who and what they are.

You never really know if you succeed in this endeavor. But I got a gold star on my forehead a few weeks ago when I overheard this conversation between my two big boys: Ben has been struggling with that junior high crap of who’s cool and who’s not, not being invited places, being left out. Tucker suffered that same struggle (to a much worse degree than Ben) all through elementary school and most of junior high. Tucker’s advice to Ben? “High school is so much better. And even if everything else sucks, you always have your family that you can come home to where you’re safe. No matter what.”

Success.

No mom is perfect. But if there is one truth I learned from being a foster mom, it’s this: No matter how bad the mother, kids ALWAYS want their own mom. Even if she’s a drug addict or a child neglector or abuser, or even if she’s dead, there is no replacement for your own mom. Something comes from those years of good and bad experiences together that intertwines hearts like nothing else can. And it gives me solace to look back on my own childhood and realize that I mostly remember the great memories, not my parents’ small mistakes. None of us are horrible moms.  We're moms who want the best for these kids we love, we fall short, and we beat ourselves up about our failures.  STOP IT NOW.

Celebrate the mothers in your life this weekend. And include yourself—
because you deserve it!

What do you have to say? Is it funny, self-effacing, introspective, deep? Is is profound, silly, kinda dumb? We all want to hear!

Write your post's name in the first space, then copy the specific post address (not your blog address) into the second space. To do this, click on the title of your post on your blog. Then copy the address up in the tool bar--minus the http:// Hope that's clear.

This is my first time doing this, so I hope it works! Take the time to read all the posts and leave comments if you can.