Shutting Up

Last week I had a conversation with my almost 6-year old that went like this:

Me (completely calm): Justice, you have 45 minutes to get your homework done and change clothes for Taekwondo. *It’s important to note that 45 minutes is more than enough time to complete both these tasks, and he’d already wasted 30 minutes leading up to this reminder.

Justice (bursting into tears): I CAN’T DO IT! I’m DOOMED! (face plants on the counter and whimpers)

This has become a new normal in my house. (Actually, this is standard dramatic behavior for my son. I covet your prayers for my sanity.) And in case you’re wondering, Justice still had 20 minutes of homework to finish after we returned home from Taekwondo. I’ve never allowed that to happen before. But that was before I embraced a new method of teaching my kids responsibility. It’s called shutting up.

Two weeks ago I finally hit my limit for the number of times I repeated instructions for bedtime and after-school routines. Honestly, after years of reciting, “Head inside, take off your shoes, unload your backpacks, and get started on homework,” my kids have it memorized. They know their shoes go in the shoe cubby. They know their dirty lunch boxes go in the sink. They know their backpacks get hung on the hook. They know their folders need to be handed over to me to check their assignments. The same goes with bedtime: “Go upstairs, brush teeth, get undressed, and ready for a shower.” They know all the steps. So why on earth do I find myself reminding them of every little step, every single day? Why do I have to continually corral them and keep them on the course? It turns out, I don’t. I can resign from being a broken record. I can sit back and let my children choose to stay on track or not. It’s the best thing I can do for them.

I’m tired of being the nagging mom. My kids are tired of it too. I think that’s why my words often fall on deaf ears. They’ve heard it all before. They roll their eyes and respond with, “Mom, I know!” (To which I say, “Do you? Then why aren’t you doing it?!?!” Lord give me strength.) So I’ve decided to stop nagging and let my kids take ownership of their own time. Instead of telling them what they should be doing, I simply tell them how much time they have until we need to be at the next thing, or until I start dinner prep and won’t be available to help them. How they choose to spend that time is entirely up to them. It’s been a big adjustment for all of us. I struggle to keep my mouth shut when I see the kitchen floor strewn with jackets, water bottles, and homework folders. I have to bite my tongue (hard) when they start playing with their Legos or roughhousing outside instead of tackling their school work first thing. I watch the clock tick down until dinner time and I know they won’t get it all done. I simply remind them of the time and let the cards fall where they may.

The first few days I put this into practice, my kids were constantly watching me out of the corner of their eyes, waiting for me to intervene and throw a wet towel on their fun. They would dump their belongings on the floor and start wrestling on the rug, then stop and check to see if I was going to dish out consequences. At most, I’d calmly remind them that at 5:30 pm, we’re eating dinner and whatever isn’t done by then, doesn’t get done. (We will not allow them to do homework after dinner. They have plenty of time to get it done beforehand.) Eventually, they settle down and pull out their homework, but they struggle to make the transition. Most days they finish with a very narrow window of time remaining. It stresses them out. They whine and complain about not having enough time. I simply shrug and ask them who made the choice to play first and work later? They did. There’s no one to be mad at but themselves. The same is true for bedtime. If they goof around instead of brushing their teeth and taking a shower, they don’t have time for bedtime stories (their favorite part of the day). Eventually, they’ll learn to get their responsibilities out of the way first so they can spend the rest of their time doing what they love. This is what I used to enforce every day, but I don’t anymore. They should figure out the importance of time management for themselves.

I’ve turned a corner in regards to homework too. Each day I tell my kindergartner what his homework assignments are. Some days he complies without any issues. Other days his attitude is all wrong and he throws a fit, cries, overreacts, and turns into a big ol’ grump. I used to get frustrated. I used to send him to his room. I used to raise my voice and insist he chills out and get it done. Those days are gone. Neither one of us was benefiting from my requiring his compliance. Instead, I stay calm and let him work out his emotions. I refuse to work with him until he’s ready to respectfully listen and do his best work. I go about my business and when he’s ready to ask for my help, I happily oblige. If he says he doesn’t want to practice his poem or finish his math, I don’t force him. But I do ask him to think about what will happen if he goes to school with incomplete work, or without his poem memorized. What will his teacher say? How will he feel? He quickly realizes that quitting his homework early won’t feel so great tomorrow. I don’t make the choice for him though. That’s not my job anymore. It’s my job to help him understand that his choices matter. My daughter, though four years older than my son, struggles with the same thing. She blows through her homework at lightning speed so she can be done and go play. The problem is, that when she asks me to check her work, I often find it riddled with minor mistakes. When I point them out to her, she becomes emotional, grumbling about how much more time it will take to correct them. I explain the choice she has. She can turn her work in, as is, and take the grade that comes from it. Or she can take the time to fix it and turn it in with confidence. Eventually, she’ll learn that going slowly the first time around, saves time in the end. That’s a lesson best learned from experience, not from my lecturing.

Much like learning The Power of “Yes,” relinquishing control and staying hands-off with my young children has been so rewarding (not to mention freeing)! Almost every time, when left to their own devices, they’ve made the right choice. Are they as efficient as they would be if I were breathing down their necks? Definitely not. Do they whine more? Absolutely. But we resent each other less. They’re not exasperated with me for my constant nagging, and I’m not burnt out from repeating myself to an inattentive audience. I’ll admit, I started from a place of frustration. The first few times I said, “It’s your choice,” it was passive-aggressive. My mouth was saying one thing but my eyes were saying, “Do what I want you to do.” Now, I say it with genuine surrender. I can look them in the eyes and tell them, “You don’t need me to tell you what to do. You’re capable of making the right decision.”

So what happens when they don’t choose the right path? It’s tempting for me to whip out the old “I told you so.” Like when they’re acting crazy hyper nuts and I warn them, “Someone’s going to get hurt if you’re not careful! And I won’t feel bad about it because I’m warning you!” then I hear a loud thud, followed by shrill screams and crying. My empathy level is at almost zero in those moments. This exact thing happened this week. When I saw the goose egg growing on my son’s forehead and asked, “Are you okay?” my daughter replied, “I thought you said wouldn’t care if we got hurt.” Yeesh. (In case you were putting my parenting on a pedestal, that should knock it right off.) I had to explain that what I meant was, “I love you, and because I love you I don’t want you to get hurt. So please listen to my wisdom and make good choices.” (How many times has God whispered those words over me?) My sweet, perfectionist, rule follower of a daughter flopped on the couch and said, “I just wish I was perfect and I couldn’t make bad choices.” Don’t we all? Life would be so much easier wouldn’t it? No negative consequences, only rewards, and benefits. Sounds like a sweet deal. But then, what could be sweeter than experiencing grace? What greater reward than the one we have in heaven? To never need a Savior, to never experience forgiveness, would be a tragic disadvantage. It’s so vital that my children understand grace, and that won’t happen if I stand back and haughtily say, “See? What did I tell you?” Instead, may I be merciful, as God is merciful. May I assure them not only that I trust them, but that I’ll be there to help set them right when they choose the wrong path. May I extend forgiveness. May I offer unconditional love, just as my heavenly Father offers me. After all, that’s my job.

I often say to my daughter that I don’t expect perfection from her, I only ask that she learn from her mistakes and try harder next time. I remind her that she has a good heart, and even good people mess up. We all fall short. There’s no other way to learn, grow, or improve than by failing. How can we learn humility if we never apologize or own up to sin? My son especially struggles with pride. Asking him to apologize to someone is just about the worst punishment I can dole out where he’s concerned. It takes him an excruciating amount of time to work up the courage to spit out those two little words: “I’m sorry.” When he’s in the wrong, we insist he owns it, not just because his ego needs to be knocked down a few pegs (it does), but because we want him to experience forgiveness and the freedom it brings. Now, more often than not, he will come to me and apologize of his own volition. He chooses to confess and seek forgiveness, and I consider that a greater win than choosing the right path, to begin with.

When my kids were younger, it was my job to manage their time, insist on rules being followed, and make their choices for them because they lacked the maturity to make them for themselves. As they grow, my grip needs to loosen. They’re only 5 and 9, so of course, I still need to speak into their lives a great deal and guide them where needed, but I also need to encourage independence and let them learn things the hard way. It’s what our Father does for us. Hebrews 12:7-12 says, “Endure hardship as discipline; God is treating you as his children. For what children are not disciplined by their father? If you are not disciplined—and everyone undergoes discipline—then you are not legitimate, not true sons and daughters at all. Moreover, we have all had human fathers who disciplined us and we respected them for it. How much more should we submit to the Father of spirits and live! They disciplined us for a little while as they thought best; but God disciplines us for our good, so that we may share in his holiness. No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it.” I still discipline my children, certainly, but I also want them to learn self-discipline, and to reap the consequences of their actions. I’m finding that more often than not, the consequences they bring down on themselves are more impactful than anything I could have dished out.

In her book, Raising Grateful Kids In An Entitled World, author Kristen Welch speaks volumes about the benefit of letting kids take responsibility for their actions. She shares a discussion she had with her children about Psalm 23, referring to the Lord as a shepherd. The shepherd’s staff was used to, “direct the sheep, to pull them back from danger and make them go a certain way,” (p.203). The rod is what the shepherd used to discipline the sheep, and yet David writes, “I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and staff, they comfort me,” (Ps. 23:4). Why did he find these forms of discipline comforting? Because the shepherd loves his sheep. May my children be comforted by my discipline, knowing it’s there to guide them, to protect them. May my discipline be enforced out of love, not control. And when my children are faced with a choice, may my silence speak volumes.