Showing posts with label Mothering. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mothering. Show all posts

Tuesday, April 8, 2014

This isn't a Job!

By: Carol Maxym, Ph.D.

I hear people talking about mothering or fathering—parenting—as a “job” all the time. A
job has a start time and end time. Not so with being a parent. A job pays you. Not so with being a parent. You can retire from a job or look for a new one. Not the way it is for parents. You can get fired from a job—and even if there are times you feel you might like to be fired from being a parent, it just doesn’t work that way. You can get promoted in a job. No promotions in the parent world.

Being a parent isn’t a job. It’s a duty. A sacred duty. Once you become a parent, it lasts your lifetime. That’s part of what makes it so wonderful, so daunting, so joyous, so frightening. And, as you know, no one and nothing can bring you joy or pain like your child.

So why am I saying all this? Because I think in the midst of the day-long, day-to-day routine and all the advice that comes your way, it is easy lose track of the lifelong duty side of being a parent.

When my daughter had her first child and felt a bit overwhelmed with all there was to do (as do most mothers and fathers), I told her that I had learned from experience that one grows into being a mother or father. As the child grows, so do you as the parent. Recently she referenced that conversation to tell me how true was my statement. As a parent you grow and grow and mature, just as your child does.

Part of my goal for this blog is to help you to think, rethink, consider, reconsider, to be thoughtful and questioning while yet wise and decisive. Seldom will I give you specific advice, “Do this” or “Do that.” There’s too much of that out there already, and you and I both know it doesn’t work. Instead I’ll work to try to help you to be a wiser mom or dad.

I hope that most days you’ll spend about five minutes with me, then think about what you’ve read in those few spare moments you have.

A few years ago a client told me about a sermon her pastor had given in which he said to welcome the red lights you wait for in traffic because it is the only time in your day when you really can’t do anything but wait, so you might as well treasure the time, use it to think, to reconsider, to muse. I hope you’ll have and enjoy one red light today.

Tuesday, March 25, 2014

Micromanaging: Take Two

By: Carol Maxym, Ph.D.

Introducing the Concept of Pronoun Disorder

I’m coming back to this topic because it is one of the most important and least recognized topics in modern child rearing. I will be bold and perhaps even harsh because I so much want to help you to understand the extreme risks of micromanaging.

Micromanaging is being a lazy parent. Yes, lazy. Now you will probably think that makes no sense at all because it takes so much of your energy, keeping everything together, running smoothly. Yes, it does. It creates a phony order out of what is ultimately chaos because your child is not gaining independence of action, thought, and emotion. Sorry. That’s the fact. Think about it.

You’ve probably heard the old Chinese proverb: Give a man a fish, and you feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish, and you allow him to feed himself for life.

How does that relate to micromanaging your child(ren)? You can organize all your children’s homework each night. You can help them to do their larger projects. You can speak to the teacher when things aren’t working optimally or even at all. You can organize their schedules. You can remind and nag to obtain the results that you know are the good results. You can impose adult-level quality on every aspect of their lives…and what is going to happen when you aren’t there?

Are you providing one fish after another or teaching your child to fish?

I am continuously distressed to hear about parents needing to be more involved in their child’s education. No, no, no! You do not need to supervise what your child is learning and how he is doing. You do not need to micromanage school for your child. I have no doubt you will do a better job (you are an adult!) resulting in a higher quality end product. However, the end result of having a better product is the antithesis of meeting your child’s needs. Remember your child’s needs are more closely related to being able to become independent, honorable, productive in the adult world than to be imitating adult-level competence at the ripe age of 8 or 12 or 16.

Okay, I’m going to say it: Micromanaging is selfish. Yes, really, because it’s about you having the satisfaction of the end product instead of the pain and distress of waiting to see how your child will do if left on her own. It’s wanting adult-level quality for kid-level endeavors. It is easier to micromanage something than to teach how to do it, to wait for the learning to happen. (Learning rarely happens immediately).

Micromanaging is about you having instant gratification. Micromanaging is about you not having to bear the anxiety of your child not doing perfectly at the start…or even later.

Here is one way you can tell if you are micromanaging. Check out whether you have “Pronoun Disorder.” Pronoun Disorder is when you use the pronoun “we” when you should be saying “he” or “she.” Pronoun Disorder is when you say things like, “We’re applying to college.” Pronoun Disorder is when you think things like, “I know exactly how he’s feeling. I must ease it for him.”

Please reconsider whether the process or the end product is more important in the long run.

Seeking Comfort or Solving Problems

By: Robert Schmidt, M.A.

“My name is Robert and I’m an addict.”

In the 10 plus years that I have been clean and sober I have made that statement about myself out loud hundreds of time before speaking about personal experiences regarding substance abuse and recovery processes. That one phrase is both introduction to a topic and a claim to authority over the subject matter that follows.

It is also an expression of solidarity with a group of people and their conception of a particular problem. That always makes me cringe slightly.

So, what do I mean when I say I’m an addict? Do I mean to say that I have a disease?
In 1987, the American Medical Association proclaimed that drug dependencies including alcoholism were diseases. Not based on biological evidence the proclamation was an attempt to shift the burden of responsibility from the criminal justice system to the heath-care system.

There are many people in academia and outside of it who argue the various points on whether addiction is a disease as if there were actually some a priori truth to be discovered regarding how well the one theoretical construct matches the other and if it really matters to an addict or alcoholic choosing a life in recovery.

In the meantime, addicts are dying every day.

I no longer find the debate compelling. I am only interested in how an individual’s beliefs about his or her use effects the chances for recovery.

When I was a teenager I used to steal money from my father’s wallet while he took his morning shower. I also stole money from my friends and their parents. I justified this behavior by telling myself “I have an addiction to feed.” At that time I thought I was biologically propelled to addiction and that my behaviors were a result of some genetic misfortune. I exempted myself from feelings of guilt on these grounds for years. I was also excusing myself from any pressure to act toward changing the addictive behaviors.

In addition to the AMA proclamation, I think that part of the reason the disease model has permeated the popular narrative on addictions is Alcoholics Anonymous, and a misrepresentation thereof.
The first of the AA 12 steps states: “we admitted we were powerless over alcohol – that our lives had become unmanageable.” Many people in and around AA take this very literally and disregard the fact that the next 11 steps all detail a process of claiming power back from alcohol.
This is done by taking personal inventory, making amends, and helping others do the same in order to seek out a spiritual awakening.

A good friend once told me that addiction is like an elevator going down, and that if we want to we can get off at any floor.

I think the disease model isn’t helpful if/when it is being use to explain away behaviors that can be treated and extinguished. I think it is one explanation that can offer comfort to families in pain, by why seek comfort when the problem can be solved through action?