No one gives you clearer feedback on your parenting than your children. More times than I can count, I’ve heard my oldest speak in a certain way or say something in particular and it is like watching myself in a mirror. I’m not talking about family resemblance; I mean the way I lecture her on the importance of listening or my tone of voice when I’m angry. Usually, it’s the things I’m not so proud of that I find reflecting back at me.
Tomorrow is her day to bring snack to preschool, so today we were separating her choice of cheezits and grapes into individual snack baggies for each of her classmates. She did great with the cheezits, but lost stamina when it came to the grapes. Of course, that was at the same time her baby sister needed to eat and only minutes before her dad was scheduled to pick her up. “Come on, Lex. Get this finished. You can get these done, just sit down and do it. You’re old enough to help with this,” I coached (repeatedly) until it was finished.
When we were finally done she headed out to play in the back yard until her dad arrived. I left the screen door open so I could keep an ear on her. It didn’t take long until her play turned into a very loud lecture during which the dog was being scolded to “get to work” and “help out” and “get it done”.
Sigh.
I called her to the door and asked “Did you feel like I was lecturing you about making snack?” Bless her heart, she seemed surprised at the question and responded that no, she hadn’t. But just because she didn’t realize it doesn’t mean it escaped my awareness.
“Let’s both work on asking for help a little more nicely, ok?” I suggested. And she happily skipped back to her game. And I sat at the table contemplating just how many different ways I treat her or respond in a certain tone and then I scold her for exhibiting the same behavior. I expect her to be patient and kind and thoughtful and polite, but am I always those things? The answer is obvious. Of course I’m not.
The discomfort of seeing your own traits that could use some improvement in your child makes this a profound lesson; one I will keep learning over and over again. But there is a brighter side to this: every time she brings me a special gift, a token of her love or “something to remember me of her”, every time she responds with overwhelming gratitude or offers a small kindness to another, every time she marvels at the magic of the moon or the sunset or sings a song she just made up at the top of her lungs or let’s her imagination run wild… Those are reflections of me, too.
None of us are perfect, but in my eyes she is wonderfully, perfectly human. Can I offer the reflection in the mirror the same kind of grace?