When I became a mother for the first time, I was a young woman in awe. In awe of the life I had carried, birthed and would now parent. I marveled at her innocent round cheeks and button nose, and her tiny fingers and toes. Everything about her enthralled me. Every material thing we had acquired to support her new life delighted me. Each onesie was carefully washed and sorted. Her every outfit was thought out with care. I remember feeling so special to be able to have this precious baby in my life, and learning what it meant to share life with her was a treasure of discoveries.
While pregnant, I had refinished a rocking chair and repainted in a glossy white. It was topped with a soft colored pillow set to protect my back and seat where I would no doubt spend countless hours rocking my little lamb to sleep with the gentle night light glowing behind our special chair in her sweet nursery.
Imagine my surprise when it didn’t turn out like that at all! This little lamb had her own idea about what it meant to fall asleep as early as two weeks of age. It didn’t include me. Following the evening bath, feeding, diapers and pajamas, I would wrap her in a receiving blanket, put on soft music and gather her in my arms. My idea was to rock her slowly to sleep and then tip-toe to the crib. Her idea was to go to sleep on her own by wiggling and thrashing about for several minutes before entering baby dreamland. She didn’t want my arms anywhere near her. In fact, she didn’t want me anywhere near her.
It took a few weeks to believe that what I was experiencing was truly what she wanted. It was amazing to see how fast she would put herself to sleep in this fashion. I was left to step backwards out of her room, staring unblinking at that new life in the crib who didn’t agree with my romantic plan for nite-nite time.
Aren't we all guilty of something like this when it comes to what we think it should be or what we want it to be with our children? We have our own mental picture whether it’s based on our own history, baggage – or imagination – and when it doesn't work, we stutter and wonder what to do next. Do we force things to fit our idea? Do we flow? Aren’t we the parents?
We are the parents, but I think we can learn to listen and notice who our children are and what their “style” is. Go with what you learn from them about who they are and what they need individually. One child may need more assurance, another might need more direction. One may be sensitive, one may be wild. No one parenting recipe could possibly cover multiple “styles”.
Even though my baby and I weren't doing bedtime the way I had dreamed about, I knew she knew I loved her as I left her to thrash away. I just had to learn to show my love in an understanding way that honored her needs. This was okay.
It takes some work and prayer, but I believe we can give each of our children the parental love they need in the way they need it. Would you buy an artist skis? Unless they are a skiing artist, you probably wouldn't. Would you expect abstract thinking from a kindergartner? Is it okay if your teenager doesn't want their driver’s license at the same time all their friends do? What if your kid doesn't want to play a sport? We need to learn what excites our kids and where their strengths lie. Find out their dreams and concerns and tailor-make your relationship to suit their personality and goals. And above all, help them to feel secure and loved in their own skin because of exactly who they are.
A really good book that helps parents and grandparents understand different love languages is The Five Love Languages of Children, by Gary D. Chapman.
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