When Your Parenting Style Changes

I’ve always been the mom who was pretty sure that my kid was in the wrong. Not that I think my kids are bad. I think they’re amazing!! But I also know they’re humans and that humans mess up. I don’t think I’ve been unfairly hard on them, I’ve just recognized that sometimes they make mistakes. Whenever I get a call from the school or a note from daycare, I speak to my kid about their behavior, discipline them if necessary, and move on.

But something inside me has shifted.

Over the summer I was in a situation where I witnessed my daughter being unfairly accused of something. A dam broke inside me and the mama bear that’s been buried deep inside was awoken. I addressed the situation and, admittedly, handled it pretty badly. I was much more upset than the scenario warranted. I allowed emotion to guide me and it got heated and we all cried. I had to apologize, not for addressing the situation (it needed to be addressed), but for how I handled it. The whole thing was completely out of character for me.

When I tried to reevaluate what exactly had happened and attempted to find some silver lining to the situation, all I could come up with was this: my daughter is a really good kid. Like, really, really good. I haven’t had many (any?) opportunities to show her that I have her back and that I will defend her, because she’s never really needed defending. God presented a way for me to let her know that when it comes down to it, I’ll go to bat for her.

I figured this whole “rushing to my kid’s defense” thing was a one time hiccup in an otherwise pretty strict parenting game that I’ve had going. Not so. When I got an email last week from a teacher saying my kid’s grade was slipping, along with several other students in the class, my thought was “Well, what’s the common denominator here? YOU. Maybe you’ve let your teaching skills slip. Perhaps you need to try harder.”

What on earth??

When I got a call from the school principal this morning about my kid’s behavior on the bus, I actually said, “Um, that bus driver is like 500 years old and we have had some serious concerns about him.”

I can’t even with myself right now.

I realize that I’m going to have to reign this in. I’m going to have to find some sort of happy medium between throwing my kids under the bus and absolving them of any wrongdoing. I plan to work on that, truly I do. But for right this minute, I’m considering the possibility that God gives our kids the parents they need in certain seasons of life. Like, maybe my kids needed that no-nonsense mom when they were little and perhaps now they need a mom who will make a fool of herself to defend them. It’s all about balance, right?

I mean, there’s a solid chance I’m messing this whole parenting thing up. Because I’m human and humans mess up. The kids, the parents, the bus drivers, the camp counselors, the teachers, all of us mess up sometimes. Maybe the key to it all is recognizing that in any given situation, whether we are right or wrong, grace is paramount.

So rather than draft an email with bullet points about the specific concerns that I have with my kid’s old man bus driver, I’ll just talk to my son instead and tell him to be extra kind to the old guy,  give him some grace. And I’ll give the old man bus driver some grace too. And maybe the bus driver will show my kid some grace the next time he’s having a bad day. And maybe someone will show me some grace the next time I overreact like the mama bear that I guess I am now.