My Ego is Not My Kids' Responsibility

This is one of those Momtras that I’m writing to document and carve into my psyche. I was just talking about this to a friend of mine. I write these momtras to help me remember how I should respond. Momtras are meant to be short and easier to remember, making them more accessible when in the fog of mom war. Momtras are vetted in the trenches of the hellfire that ensues on a daily basis on my homefront. Dramatic, but we all know it feels like that some days. So, I do my best to make these momtras part of my arsenal that helps me tactically respond, but also helps my mind focus on something productive versus getting swept up in that fog of emotional stimulation. Just like some of the others I’ve shared, this momtra seems idealistic when achieved and…duh. Momtras are the expectation and don’t always translate as the inconsistency that is reality; it doesn’t mean I drop the expectation. It means I give myself grace and do better tomorrow.

Lately, I’ve heard or read advice that has an overlying theme. Advice to the effect of:

One day, your children will thank you.

Some day, they’ll realize what you’ve done for them.

There will be a day when they appreciate the sacrifices you’ve made.

That is the hope. I hope my kids will mature and appreciate the decisions I’ve made or the hard lessons they’ve lived through in hopes of them learning and evolving into capable humans. I have to be honest with myself, though. Is that really what I’m doing this for? Am I making these choices and pushing their limits so they’ll thank me one day or appreciate it? Nope. They’re my kids and, therefore, genetically predisposed to one day rebel against everything they’ve heard and learned from me and will want to test out my theories on life themselves so they can decide if they believe what they’ve been told. As they travel that path, they will live in spite of me and not in reverence. I have to prepare myself for that day. The day they tell me I suck and they don’t want to be around me. Kids are mean, so I do hear some of that now. Although, it usually comes after a Roblox binge and how dare I have the balls to ask him to stop, right?!

I have to…

• make the hard decisions

• hold them accountable

• give them responsibilities

• make them go to bed at a decent time

• cut off YouTube videos

• limit the exposure to entertainment I consider too mature

• take them to church and expose them to the power of prayer and fellowship

• continue modeling what I believe to be a positive mindset and lifestyle

And I have to be prepared in my head and heart to do this because I know it’s right and might not be validated by anyone. Wow…with as much as I cringe at martyrdom, that's exactly what this sounds like. I promise that’s not my intent. Actually, in somewhat of an ironic way, I’m actually being selfish. I don’t want to set myself up to be disappointed if I never receive that validation from them. Do you know why? I don’t need their validation to still be and feel like a good parent.

My ego is not my kids’ responsibility.

Ego has a varying interpretation for its definition, so let me clarify for context. By ego, I’m referring to an established sense of self. While I do believe a convicted sense of self is a strong foundation for being a good parent, I do believe it to be detrimental to the overall implementation of parenting when ego is tethered to external validation from your kids and from others. An ego is essentially established autonomously through experiences.

Therefore, who I am or how I feel about myself is not validated by how well my kids like the birthday gift I bought them or their acceptance of the rules I have in place. I can’t afford to have it based on a hypothetical act of appreciation for how I mom.

When I was going through my own phase of rebellion and testing out my parents’ theories on life, I read a lot of metacognitive-based books that really were the genesis for my appreciation and reliance on self-awareness and overall cognitive analysis. One of the books I read was, The Secret.

SIDENOTE: Anyone who was at the stage of a quarter-life crisis or older in the early 2000’s knows what book I’m referring to even if you didn’t actually read it.

One of the takeaways I journaled about after reading that book was that it’s unfair to set certain expectations of how someone else should show their appreciation. You will always be disappointed if you do something for someone with an expectation of how they should show you appreciation.

I don’t want to set my kids up to disappoint me. That would be rude. I want to do what I think is right because I think it’s best. I want to get them a gift because I think they will like it or because they need it. I want to take them on an adventure because I think they will have fun or it will be a good experience. I want to take them to church because I want them to know that love and walk in that light. I want them to try new foods because I want them to grow up willing to do the same. Sometimes, they do thank me. Sometimes, they tell me it’s the worst day ever. Sometimes, my daughter draws me a schematic of the rainbow pancake birthday cake she requested for her birthday breakfast and then tells me two days later that she didn’t want that, but ate it anyway to make me happy. I actually had to laugh at that last one, because it was still sweet that she claimed to only eat it to make me happy. I don’t know, maybe it’s because I put the whip cream in the wrong spot. I really did try to follow her diagram.

I bought ballet tickets for Willow’s birthday and for my mom for Mother’s Day. My sister took Willow for a mani/pedi and fixed her favorite dinner. I let Willow pick out a beautiful princess dress and her little brother helped her practice her stairway entrance by escorting her down the stairs at home. My sister’s friend did Willow’s hair and makeup to make her feel like a princess. And in true Willow style, she still just wanted a ponytail. My mom, Willow and I all went to the ballet for a beautiful experience that, in my mind, was a more valuable expense than buying another toy that would end up on the garage sale pile by next year.

The night started off great and Willow was living her best princess life – from her tiara to the matching shoes. We got to the ballet and she started to notice the other girls wearing fancy princess dresses were all little girls much younger than her. Her mood totally shifted before the ballet even started and she told me she wishes she just wore a regular dress because she’s not a little girl. Huh? But, you picked it out and have been showing everyone a picture of it.

We found our seats in the theater and she kept looking around, seeing no other girls her age wearing fancy dresses like hers. She took off the tiara and necklace and probably would’ve stripped naked if I let her. Then, the ballet started and I’ll admit, no talking or singing cuts out a lot of the appeal to a younger audience. She’s also not a dancer and with the best efforts of my mom, did take part in appreciating costumes and the brightly colored scenery; overall, she quickly lost interest.

By the time we walked through the rain and back to the car, little missy was in a tizzy. She actually did strip down in the car. Initially, my feelings were hurt hearing her tell me how horrible the night was, how much she hated her dress, and how stupid she felt. My mind raced trying to analyze the situation and respond appropriately to let her have her feelings, but stay respectful in the meantime and try to figure out where this was coming from. My first instinct was, “Dang it! My little girl is a spoiled brat!” I thought she was upset because it wasn’t good enough or her dress wasn’t nice enough. Thinking more about her age and stage, I realized that she’s approaching the precipice of her existentialist phase. She’s becoming more self-aware and is trying to figure out where she fits in a social dynamic and hierarchy. She’s caught between wanting to be a little girl and maturing to be socially aware and investing in that comparison to others. Ugh. She was too immature to appreciate the experience of the ballet and still too mature to appreciate looking like a Disney princess when other girls her age were dressed more conservatively. Her superfluous wardrobe choice made her stand out and self-conscious.

Unfortunately, this existential crisis manifested into a little fit that was still unacceptable. Feelings are valid, but being disrespectful is not. I also let her get to that point before reminding her that those words she’s flinging around have power and are hurting my feelings. You know what, though — I have been thinking about this momtra blog for a while now and had it fresh in my mind when responding. I was able to respond effectively because I reminded myself that I didn’t do this with the expectation for a response. My feelings weren’t a part of my response and I could be intentional with reestablishing those boundaries between validating feelings about disappointment versus being disrespectful in the process.

My ego is not my kids’ responsibility.

If I am making choices or purchases based on my kids’ appreciation, that is to feed my ego. My ego is not based on what my kids think about those things. My ego is formed through my own experiences and how those shape my morality and foundational lifestyle choices. Having an established ego means there is no need for external validation – even from my kids. I am confident in my choices. Well, maybe not all choices, but that’s evolution and those outliers deserve grace. An inflated ego based on approval does not factor into my mom decisions. My ego does, however, help me stay grounded when my kids tell me they didn’t like my rainbow pancakes. I ate them and they were delicious, by the way. Their approval sure as hell isn’t likely to happen now. It’s not guaranteed in the future either. That’s not why I mom this way. I don’t need their approval to continue doing what I think is best and I need to remember that the day of thanks or appreciation may never come. I don’t need it. My ego doesn’t need it. Albeit, I will admit that I hope they do grow to appreciate the way I raised them. I just won’t hold my breath or modify my choices in hopes of that. I know who I am, what I stand for, what I believe, and I’m just going to mom on.