I'm Finished with Parenting...Sort Of

It never really occurred to me how much my lack of "finish" ability would affect my children. At least, not seriously in the life-altering kind of way.

• Joshua and Jordan have survived without a handmade Christmas stocking like the ones his older brothers have. And they will continue to love Christmas whether they get one or not.
• They don't even know their baby books aren't finished (or, in Jordan's case, started).
• Sandy's baby pictures made it into boxes in chronological order. The albums, however, are empty.
• Their clothes that need mending are in piles in my closet. Actually, shoved in corners so I don't feel guilty for not taking care of it. 
• And do any of them really care if I ever finish Sense and Sensibility? Honestly, the older two would probably rather I didn't. Then there's much less chance I'd ever expect them to.

However, as I've been realizing lately, being a bad finisher is making me a fairly poor parent.





A couple of weeks ago, I realized that Joshua and Jordan (ages 7 and 6) weren't listening to me. Ever. Well, maybe that's a bit much. If I told them to come to the dinner table, they listened pretty well. But ask them to do their chores, or get into the car to go to school, or stop fighting? It was as if I didn't exist.

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I had started just about every "parenting" program out there. I have a veritable parenting library, but I wasn't seeing success. Three days into it, I did not have children who did everything I asked them immediately and with a good attitude. And darn it, there were no little cartoon birdies and butterflies hovering above their shoulders and no stars glimmering in their cheery little eyes as they gaze at me adoringly, as if to say, "Thanks, Mom, for not letting us do what we wanted to do just now. We know that taking out the trash is much better for our developing character than jumping on the trampoline would have been."

So I gave up. "This just doesn't work!" I'd tell myself, as if it were somehow the program's fault.

Then it occurred to me. It WAS the program's fault!

Blame shifting. Gotta love it. The go-to excuse for parents and children alike. You can't keep from growing up, but maturing is a choice.

But this time, my blame shifting was valid. No parenting program out there is capable of changing my children's hearts. Even I am incapable of changing my children's hearts. And without touching their hearts, the best I can ever hope for is good behavior as long as there is a consequence ready to knock them back in line when they stray.

So I'm starting a new program. The author has been around a long time. Actually, since before the first child stomped her little foot, crossed her little arms, and said, "You can't stop me!"

We're getting back to basics, like first time obedience. (Children, obey your parents in the Lord, for this is right.)

Like being kind. (Love one another with brotherly affection.)

And telling the truth. (Whoever gives an honest answer kisses the lips.)

But most of all, I'm trying to show the children that out of the heart, the mouth speaks and the hands do.

Oh, and I'm praying. A lot. And trying to swallow my pride and enlist the help of the prayer warriors God has placed in my life.

But you know what sucks?

Parenting.
Doesn't.
Finish.

Thank God.