A Little Affirmation

All of you parents out there know exactly what I’m talking about.   After reminding your child for the 228th time in the same morning that no, he can’t smear peanut butter in his sister’s hair, he must say thank you and hand-washing post-potty isn’t optional, you wonder if ANYTHING is sinking in.  You wonder why you are even pouring in all this effort in the first place.  Can I get an, “Amen!”?

Then, aside from the obvious fact that I don’t want my child to grow up to be an antisocial reject that lands himself in juvie at a young age (apparently the penalties for peanut-butter smearing are fierce these days), I occasionally remember what this parenting thing is all about.  Raising a kid is tough work, but it’s an important job.  It’s one of those deals where you get out what you put in.  So while all the repetitive correcting can be exhausting, it’s necessary.  You have to keep at it, regardless of how frustrating it is to hear yourself repeat the same phrases over and over.

The affirmation from young kids that you’re doing things well isn’t always plentiful.  For example, my one year-old isn’t exactly verbalizing her gratitude for all of my hard work and my three year-old has yet to say, “Mommy, thanks so much for disciplining me so I can grow up to become a well-behaved member of society.”  I’m thinking I shouldn’t hold my breath on this one? 😉

But then I hit the jackpot the other day and got such an affirmation.  Whenever I shower (so, at least once every several days or so 😉 ), I get out a jar of buttons for my son to play with, ideally while my daughter naps.  He sorts them by size and color, counts them, etc. and just generally loves on the button jar.  This is great, but for months, I’ve been repetitively telling him he needs to keep the buttons on the bed and put them back in the jar when he’s done (my daughter would snatch up those choking hazards in a nanosecond if a stray one was left on the floor).  Despite my reminders, this never happens.  Buttons are left strewn all over the bed and the floor, tangles up in sheets and under pillows.

The other day, I got out of the shower, saw the button jar sitting ominously on my nightstand and was filled with an “Oh crap, I’m going to have to spend the next several minutes doing an extensive button round-up” sense of dread.  Then I walked over to the jar and it was closed.  I looked at the bed–it was button-free.  I picked up the comforter–still no buttons.  WHAAA?!  Was it possible?  Did it really happen?  MY SON CLEANED UP THE BUTTONS.  Wow.  WOW.  Something I said actually sunk in and he ACTUALLY LISTENED TO ME.

Affirmation received.  Keep up the nauseatingly repetitive disciplining, Mom of the Year.

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Meredith

Meredith blogs at The Mom of the Year, where she dedicatedly earns her title one epic parenting fail at a time, offering quick, relatable laughs for fellow parents and all their empathizers. She has been part of several best-selling anthologies, featured on prominent sites such as Huffington Post, In the Powder Room and BlogHer, and loves her role as the Executive VP/Operations Manager of The BlogU Conference. When she's not breaking up fights over Legos and juice boxes, she remains fully committed to sharing a less serious look at the world of parenting.

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