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I Confess That I Love My Kids 01/31/2011
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My last post talked about ego and the need to sometimes step outside yourself to say "I'm sorry." After all, as I always say to my kids when they argue, "Is it better to be right or kind?"

"Kind!" they scream back, before going back to poking at each other once again. (And really, who can say anyone is right?)

Regardless of my son's need to win every verbal match, and my daughter's ability to latch onto an emotional hurt like a pitbull on steak, I'm proud of their humble spirits. They aren't mean kids. They can laugh and love and be silly far more than I ever could.

For these reasons, I didn't harbor some of the anxiety some parents feel about sending their kids to this very Catholic, formal ritual. I think admitting our weaknesses out loud give us a great opportunity to start fresh. We don't have to be perfect - no human being is.

Many folk see the ritual of confessing to a priest as "shame based activity" or "hurting their kid's self-esteem". Ask any of my friends and they'll tell you my son has enough sense of self for his whole class. Bringing him down a notch or two will hardly damage his stronger than truck stop java personality. (That day, truthfully, I was more worried he would ask Father White Beard why priests wear dresses and if the communion wafers - aka: "those little cookies" were gluten free.)

Regardless of our religious affiliation, I'm going to make the sweeping generalization that we parents spend too much time pumping up for kids for the most basic of tasks. "Ooooh, good job on setting that table! Here's a gold medal for your fanastic display of mediocrity! And dude, the forks go on the LEFT!"

Since when did being part of a family, and contributing, warrant the fanfare and aplomb of graduating from Harvard? In fact, expecting my kids to be more self-reliant will get them to Harvard quicker than doing everything for them. And frankly, even if they bypass college to sell hemp weaved baskets at Redondo Beach, they will know how to inventory, price and market them. (And I expect a discount.)

I am not going to lie. I hug and kiss and support and obsess over my kids' emotional well being far more than I should. (Ask my mom. I'm not a helicopter parent, but I'd qualify as a remote control airplane at least. And seriously, even that amount of hovering is too much. I can parent by staying rooted on the ground, thank you very much!)

I need to practice detachment.

I need to work on my own self-reliance.

But until I get there, I'll forgive myself for being a less than perfect mother.

This TIME article talks about the ever growing debate over if American kids are spoiled. I'm sure, compared to many others',  my children are hellions. But I can't worry about your kids, my friends' kids or even family members' kids. All I can do is teach my own kids that "please" and "thankyou" matters, money can't buy character, soul is as important as logic, being funny is the most underrated qualtity on the planet, and that under no circumstances will Mama speak to them in the morning before her first cup of Yuban.

So, tell me: What are your thoughts on teaching kids the art of the apology, whether it be a First Confession or just encouraging a humble heart? What are you doing to encourage your kids to be self-reliant?

You can also find me writing about my faith journey at Joe Beam's place.

 


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