I think we've all done it. Whether we ultimately have children or not, at some point, we have seen a parent doing something or hear of someone's parenting technique and we say, "Wow. If I have kids, I will never" fill in the blank. Then, for those who become parents, chances are good we will encounter a situation as a parent where we violate that rule we made while so fervently judging that other parent.
The first "I will never" I remember violating is letting Lil' Bit have a pacifier. Granted, I didn't get much choice in the matter. When she was whisked away to the nursery because she wasn't breathing well and they elected to give her one, I decided I was not going to fight it. It made her happy and thousands of well-adjusted people had them. Besides, I was not going to make her scream by taking it away. And so it was that I broke my "I would never" number 2--I will never do something just to make my kid quiet. This has probably been my biggest rule violation and it has come in many forms. As Bill Cosby said, "Parents aren't interested in justice. They are interested in peace and quiet." And so we are. That doesn't mean that I will give my child anything to make her quiet. When I tell her "no" and she gets upset, I am more than willing to let her be upset than give in to a tantrum. But, as I mentioned in my most recent vacation post, I will give her an iPad to try and keep her happy in the car. That action also broke the "I will never have a DVD player in my car." Although technically I have not violated this rule, let's be honest, iPads are essentially this generation's in-car-DVD system. So, I own that as a third rule violation.
I also quickly violated the "I will never have my child watch any television before she's 2." Ha! While I try very hard to make sure she plays outside or inside with toys, and she gets exposed to music and all types of things, I was living a lie if I thought I was going to keep her tv free. I remember when I first got her home and we were doing that loving, cuddling, bondy thing. She slept often. And although I knew I needed to nap, I couldn't. But I unwilling to put my baby down either. She was only going to be small once and I wanted to snuggle the snot out of her while I could. So, what's a bored woman with insomnia going to do while holding a sleeping child--watch television apparently. But, I reasoned with myself, she's not watching it; she's asleep. And, I tried to be more careful when she was awake. But, time went by, life got in the way, and, let's be honest, I got lazy, and now she's hooked on Phineas and Ferb and Sesame Street. Still, there are worse things.
I have been thinking about these rule violations recently and I decided that, for me, the goal is to be aware when I do it, know why I do it, and to limit it appropriately as best I can. But it also made me wonder. Given that all parenting is trial and error and on-the-job training, am I simply adapting to reality whereas my rules were made when I had no idea how parenting actually worked, or am I rule-breaking? As with most things, I decided it was neither fully one or the other. In large part, I made the rule pronouncements without any concept of the realities of parenting. That does not mean the rules were unachievable. I know of parents who made similar rules and managed to keep them. I think the point, though, is to figure out why I made the pronouncement I did. Why did I think x behavior was bad and want to avoid it with my child? I also needed to admit to myself why I was breaking the rule/changing my mind. And, at least for me, as long as I am honest with myself about why I have changed my position, I don't beat myself up. I know that I'm doing the best I can and learning as I go. And kudos to the parents who manage to not break their rules, particularly now that I know how hard that is. Also, I am way easier on the in-my-head judgments I make about parents I see out and about these days. Before I had kids, I knew everything. Now that I have one, I am discovering vast realms of knowledge I didn't even know existed. So, I cut myself a little slack; acknowledge that I probably rushed to judgment in my youth; and move on to the job ahead of me--Being the adult I want Lil' Bit to grow up to be. That, to me, is the simplest, but most important rule for me to follow.
Showing posts with label judgment. Show all posts
Showing posts with label judgment. Show all posts
7.15.2012
6.28.2012
Suffering, Blessings, and the Right to Complain
I have been thinking a lot about coveting, complaining, and suffering recently. It seems to be popping up in conversations, blog posts, and Facebook statuses (stati?) a lot these days. And as I began to unpack my own personal wants, complaints, trials, and "n't fair" moments, I realized that there might be a way to free myself from some of the frustration and guilt that comes from these feelings. It occurred to me that coveting something someone else has that I want and being upset because someone who seems to be better off is complaining both come from the same place--I have assessed my position relative to theirs and made a judgment.
Coveting begins by noticing that they have X and I don't and wondering how come they got it and I didn't. I have judged myself to be equally worthy, maybe better, and wonder why they have received received a blessing I did not. Similarly, when I get angry about someone else's complaining, it is generally because I have compared myself to them and judged that what they have is better than what I have, so they have no right to complain. I am well aware that none of these thoughts is terribly productive, but it hasn't stopped me from having them throughout my life. However, I think I've stumbled on a way to let some of them go--stop comparing myself and give myself permission to complain. My best examples of where this came into play for me is, surprise surprise, infertility and parenting.
People suffering with infertility often live in a black hole. All the joy in the world can get sucked down this hole and the world becomes a horrible place that doesn't make any sense and certainly isn't fair. When we see people get pregnant easily, we wonder how come we have to have it hard. When mothers who have already shown they cannot take care of children are given more, we are left to question whether anything makes sense. And when someone who is pregnant complains about morning sickness, we hear the snotty voice inside our head say, "You don't know how good you have it. I would kill to have morning sickness." But, here's the problem with that thought. Some who struggle with infertility do get pregnant. And, some of those folks end up suffering from hyperemesis. But now, we've backed ourselves into a corner. We've lost the right to acknowledge our own suffering. We can't complain because we got exactly what we asked for. And, worse, having been that woman, we know that if we complain, other people will judge us for it. We know we won the infertility lotto and now we have to walk this crazy line being ridiculously happy, acting as though there is nothing to complain about with pregnancy, and not being too happy lest we be seen as rubbing it in the noses of our fellow infertility strugglers who we know just want the opportunity to feel miserable, too. Our problem is that we shifted places on the continuum and our perspective is different from this view.
A similar struggle occurs with parenting. All kids are different. Some people get kids who are easy. Some people get kids who are hard. Some people get one kid at a time. Some people get four. And some of us get children with special needs. We once again find ourselves on a continuum, comparing ourselves with other parents and our children against other kids. We want to talk about our struggles with what is hard or be proud of our achievements, but we worry that others are saying in their head, or even out loud, "You think that's bad, my kid does x..." or "You're so lucky. I wish my kid would do y..."
And what I came to realize (remember?) is that everything in life is a continuum. In any given aspect--upbringing, education, employment, medical needs, wealth, whatever--there will always be someone who has it better than I do, and someone who has it worse. I can spend my time wondering why I got what I did and someone else has it better or worse, or I can acknowledge that we all live, suffer, rejoice, and experience life differently. By doing so, I give myself permission to acknowledge and seek comfort for my own suffering when it occurs.
This requires more work on my part, however, because I must do the same for others. Whenever I see someone who is suffering, whether I consider them better or worse off, I need to remember to be thankful for what I have, and try to provide them comfort. Because, when it comes time for me to seek comfort, I won't know where on the continuum the person to whom I am speaking has placed me. And, who knows, I could be wrong. My assessment of their place on the continuum may be way off. But, even if I'm right, it doesn't get me anything, whereas providing comfort to someone who is suffering, regardless of their station, makes a difference.
For me, it's not that I suffer more or less, or have more or less, than someone else. It's that what I have and experience is different, which makes comparisons useless. Comparisons work when things are roughly equal--apples to apples, and all that. But comparing ourselves to other people is like comparing cherries to cantaloupes; fish to carrots; or even muffins to shirts. We are often too dissimilar for the comparison to have any real meaning. And even if we find someone who's similar enough to call another apple, there are so many different kinds of apples, each with its own unique qualities. We don't demand that one apple be everything to all people. We don't tell the Granny Smith that it's inadequate because it's not a Gala. We use different apples to eat raw than we do to make pie or applesauce. And, from the apple's perspective, the Golden Delicious doesn't care that it's not a Honey Crisp.
I believe that God creates us differently because he has different needs. We have different experiences because we need to be molded differently to fit where He needs us. And, I think that He shakes His head and wonders why we spend so much time comparing ourselves to others when He worked so hard to make us all different in the first place. And I am reminded that God calls us to Him when we are suffering--"Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Matthew 11:28. He calls us all and promises to listen to our suffering and provide comfort without judgment. All of us. Those above and beneath. Us and them. It's time I start trying to do likewise.
Coveting begins by noticing that they have X and I don't and wondering how come they got it and I didn't. I have judged myself to be equally worthy, maybe better, and wonder why they have received received a blessing I did not. Similarly, when I get angry about someone else's complaining, it is generally because I have compared myself to them and judged that what they have is better than what I have, so they have no right to complain. I am well aware that none of these thoughts is terribly productive, but it hasn't stopped me from having them throughout my life. However, I think I've stumbled on a way to let some of them go--stop comparing myself and give myself permission to complain. My best examples of where this came into play for me is, surprise surprise, infertility and parenting.
People suffering with infertility often live in a black hole. All the joy in the world can get sucked down this hole and the world becomes a horrible place that doesn't make any sense and certainly isn't fair. When we see people get pregnant easily, we wonder how come we have to have it hard. When mothers who have already shown they cannot take care of children are given more, we are left to question whether anything makes sense. And when someone who is pregnant complains about morning sickness, we hear the snotty voice inside our head say, "You don't know how good you have it. I would kill to have morning sickness." But, here's the problem with that thought. Some who struggle with infertility do get pregnant. And, some of those folks end up suffering from hyperemesis. But now, we've backed ourselves into a corner. We've lost the right to acknowledge our own suffering. We can't complain because we got exactly what we asked for. And, worse, having been that woman, we know that if we complain, other people will judge us for it. We know we won the infertility lotto and now we have to walk this crazy line being ridiculously happy, acting as though there is nothing to complain about with pregnancy, and not being too happy lest we be seen as rubbing it in the noses of our fellow infertility strugglers who we know just want the opportunity to feel miserable, too. Our problem is that we shifted places on the continuum and our perspective is different from this view.
A similar struggle occurs with parenting. All kids are different. Some people get kids who are easy. Some people get kids who are hard. Some people get one kid at a time. Some people get four. And some of us get children with special needs. We once again find ourselves on a continuum, comparing ourselves with other parents and our children against other kids. We want to talk about our struggles with what is hard or be proud of our achievements, but we worry that others are saying in their head, or even out loud, "You think that's bad, my kid does x..." or "You're so lucky. I wish my kid would do y..."
And what I came to realize (remember?) is that everything in life is a continuum. In any given aspect--upbringing, education, employment, medical needs, wealth, whatever--there will always be someone who has it better than I do, and someone who has it worse. I can spend my time wondering why I got what I did and someone else has it better or worse, or I can acknowledge that we all live, suffer, rejoice, and experience life differently. By doing so, I give myself permission to acknowledge and seek comfort for my own suffering when it occurs.
This requires more work on my part, however, because I must do the same for others. Whenever I see someone who is suffering, whether I consider them better or worse off, I need to remember to be thankful for what I have, and try to provide them comfort. Because, when it comes time for me to seek comfort, I won't know where on the continuum the person to whom I am speaking has placed me. And, who knows, I could be wrong. My assessment of their place on the continuum may be way off. But, even if I'm right, it doesn't get me anything, whereas providing comfort to someone who is suffering, regardless of their station, makes a difference.
For me, it's not that I suffer more or less, or have more or less, than someone else. It's that what I have and experience is different, which makes comparisons useless. Comparisons work when things are roughly equal--apples to apples, and all that. But comparing ourselves to other people is like comparing cherries to cantaloupes; fish to carrots; or even muffins to shirts. We are often too dissimilar for the comparison to have any real meaning. And even if we find someone who's similar enough to call another apple, there are so many different kinds of apples, each with its own unique qualities. We don't demand that one apple be everything to all people. We don't tell the Granny Smith that it's inadequate because it's not a Gala. We use different apples to eat raw than we do to make pie or applesauce. And, from the apple's perspective, the Golden Delicious doesn't care that it's not a Honey Crisp.
I believe that God creates us differently because he has different needs. We have different experiences because we need to be molded differently to fit where He needs us. And, I think that He shakes His head and wonders why we spend so much time comparing ourselves to others when He worked so hard to make us all different in the first place. And I am reminded that God calls us to Him when we are suffering--"Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Matthew 11:28. He calls us all and promises to listen to our suffering and provide comfort without judgment. All of us. Those above and beneath. Us and them. It's time I start trying to do likewise.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)