What would my mom?
I will tell you the truth: our generation is too docked on my parent.
Only today in the morning one mother wrote a post about how she collects her son’s birthday comprehensive "Time capsule": items, photos and products related every year, and plans to give all this treasure, festively packed in the chests, boy on his day of eighteen, as a tribute to his whole life.
I want to ask only one thing: you seriously?
When I think how to get more joy from raising children and reduce stress, it seems to me that most of our concern comes from the idea that the childhood of our crumbs should be a magical, beautifully documented fairy tale, in which the child is the center of the Universe, and the parent – The guarantor of the success of its own offspring, obliged to penetrate into all the details of his life at least until the child has passed the ege.
This feeling so pressing on us, which invariably leads to a sense of guilt. And nothing steals the joy of upbringing more than confidence that it is a hard work. And it really seems hard work if you need to periodically shut in the courtyard of the chests with strange junk.
Here is my reception in order to reset the tension:
What would my mom?
I was born in 1974, dear readers. If you told my mom to collect an annual capsule for every child before graduation, she would have sobbed from laughter.
Yesterday, a friend asked me: "Your mother someday voluntarily dealt with your class?"
No, mom and at school never happened. We drove on the bus on the first day of study, for Christmas bought biscuits and coca-cola purchased in the store, then the school year ended, and we played on the street until the very day of knowledge. So passed school life.
My mother says she and her friends just raised us, whereas me and my peers "Parenting" (in the background floats the plate "Sarcasm"). And you know what? She is right. They did not interfere constantly into our lives, did not defend without need, did not show endless concern and excessive guardianship. They just raised us. And we grew up normal.
My confession: Every time the summer is approaching, I feel the itchy feeling of panic, because we will have 12 unsystematic weeks, and all I can imagine – it’s like my five children lay down too late, constantly stare into the gadgets screens, Losing brain cells, and gradually reduce me crazy. How I will manage to work? How I will entertain them? What I will take them to 14 hours a day? I already feel like a bad summer mother, and after all, just April. So, I must resort to my trick again.
What would my mom?
Well, first of all, we did not have round-the-clock access to cartoons, video games and YouTube, so she did the same as all moms: told us to play. I never came to my mom’s mind "entertain", "invest money in expensive summer classes", "Create activities of activity that stimulate the development of our brain". She said – get out to walk to the street, and we walked. We came up with the games and went on bikes, danced and danced from the hose when we were tormented by thirst. I swear, in half, mom’s mum did not have the idea where we disappeared. When we borted to shat in the neighborhood, whose mom made us sandwiches and sent a walk on. All moms in the districts were fed and poured us in turn, but no one parked us, like a very nervous eagle.
And never, never felt that I didn’t like me or they neglect me.
Maybe we just overestimate our own significance in education? Have we forgotten that the children need to be able to endure failure? Learn to them? Overcome difficulties? Entertain? We are struggling to oversee the magical childhood, although in reality the children are quite capable of being happy without permanent participation of adults. I believe that to make them the center of the Universe is actually terribly harmful. We have to cook a child to the path, and not the way for the child. We can be delicate and caring parents, not growing at the same time "Sugar" children who will melt under the slightest rain.
Guess what side effect we get for yourself? Relief. Return yourself joy! Just disconnect the total control mode, try receiving "What would my mom" and see what happens. You will see that children are fine. They will not be poor, abandoned crumbs, do not break down on pieces. They are not helpless. Their future is not doomed. We do not want to grow young people who fall into despair, faced with the first obstacle in their lives. Don’t we want them to understand that they are part of a healthy family, not the centrifugal force of the whole world?
And moms and dads? We finally get rid of the feelings of guilt that tells us what we do not enough, although in fact no generation of parents did more. My friends working at universities practically beg us to do less – "Please!" – Because children are not able to fill out an electronic application without assistance.
Let’s refund the joy and get rid of this fetaned stress! Let’s glad to look at how children play hide and seek, build fortresses from sofa pillows, put the performances for us (my parents still can not come to themselves after our "RESULTS") and go around the neighborhoods with their friends. Let’s refund the children of the gift of imagination, independence, creativity.
What did our moms?
They allowed us to be children, we dangled on the street, fell and rushed rapid knees, having fun and enjoyed simple joys of childhood. We knew that we were loved and what we are safe. We never doubted the most important parts of the story. We were not fragile greenhouse plants, but dirty, noisy, cheerful children who have enough candy with unwashed hands and perfectly lived.
Moms, do not bother for your children annual "Time capsules". You have everything you need to your babies: kisses, children’s books, stupid songs, dances in the kitchen, walks in the yard, family dinners in a warm circle. Your children do not need them to entertain or forced to live in a crystal bubble. They just have to be loved.