Not Like Me

I have a feeling that this might be a really long post, and when you get to the end of it, you might not quite understand exactly what I am saying. I apologize in advance if that is the case. Sometimes, the blog is here just to get things off of my chest, or to put thoughts on paper that I'd like to try to express so I remember the feeling later. Emphasis on the try. Sometimes, I still have trouble making sure the meaning is clear by the end of the post.

I have thought quite a bit over the last couple of months about my kids. They are growing up, so quickly, it seems, and I feel lucky to have an age range. I am able to still experience the wonder of the blue sky while at the same time trying to dodge the bullet of boys. Different, yet all good, at times. I have chronicled the mess that sometimes is 4th grade, I've talked about giving up nursing, I've clued you in to the joys and frustrations that go along with our little redhead. But I think the issue that is the most distressing and rampant and not fixable is the issue that the kids might not be like me.

That statement, at a first glace, will seem arrogant. Of course I don't expect the kids to be like me all of the time, and to be sure, I wouldn't like for them to be. I would hope that the kids might be more outgoing, more confident, and more decisive. Only time will tell on that. I do, however, want them to possess the same work ethic and determination that I have. I'd like for them to have some drive, and always put forth their best effort. I'd like for them to possess an insane amount of common sense, and I'd appreciate it if they thought of others at least as much as they think of themselves.

When I look at all the characteristics the kids have to offer, I smile. They are so blessed with many things. The girls have amazing voices and are doing well on the piano. Aaron has a sponge for a brain. All three of them (we'll talk about Melina next time) are creative: they construct things out of boxes, they draw and paint well, and they use their imagination in unique ways. They are kind and quiet and silly and lovely. But at the end of the day, I am realizing that the girls are not always like me.

First off, I have to remember that Zoe and Talia are two separate people, and that each one, while different from the other, will be different from me. It is hard to stand by and watch Talia struggle with what I consider a simple math concept. Of course it isn't difficult for me. I've been doing that math for years! At the same time, I might have struggled with it in 4th grade, but I don't remember that. I do remember having homework, assigned by the teachers (ahem, are you listening Mrs. M? Mrs. A?) that reinforced what we learned in school. Not a ton of homework, but enough. Then, my mom, against the majority at the time, had us do workbooks in the summer to keep up our skills. At the time, I didn't like doing the workbooks. Now, I realize why my mom did what she did. And, I have spent many a dollar at the local school supply store on math and language workbooks.

The question I ask myself is this: Did I get the workbooks to make the girls more like me, or did I do it for them? I am pretty sure that I bought them the workbooks and ask them to do homework so that they can become confident in math and grammar. Math is everywhere, and I constantly tell them that. I don't want them to grow up and be the adult who cannot interpret the graph in the newspaper, or the mom that doesn't know how to double the recipe. Tim and I find grammatical errors, constantly, in newspaper articles and advertisements. I do want them to become more like me -- able to do math and grammar -- but in the process of becoming that way, they will be bettering themselves. I want the kids to be able to find the errors, and not make their own.

That statement is telling, if you think about it. I am not a micro-manager, but I could easily be one. When it comes to the kids, I try so hard not to just do the work for them, whether it is clean up the mess they've made or do their homework. I struggle each day to let them make the error, find the error, and learn from the error. My toughest job as a mom is to sit back and let the kids live life and actually become themselves.

Comments

T said…
I know I called you yesterday with feedback. I'm laughing because after reading your blog and meeting with my intern the two overlapped. I think that your struggle is also the same one for therapists and their patients. Have you read the poem/writing about the child and the butterfly? I'll email it to you since I don't want copyright issues.
Kelsey said…
This is a post that will sit with me for a long time.

I wonder if you notice a difference in the way you perceive the girls in relation to yourself and the way you perceive Aaron... I ask because I think, whether I want to or not, I seem to see Harper as a more direct reflection of ME because we're both female...
Laura said…
Your children are lovely, however similar or dissimilar to you they may be. But, no one has as much determination and work ethic as you! You may need to cut them some slack on that one. :-)

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