Fathers, do not provoke your children to anger by the way you treat them. Rather, bring them up with the discipline and instruction that comes from the Lord. Ephesians 6:4 NLT
Parenting isn’t for parents; it’s for the
kids—meaning we must battle some parental no-nos.
Being a firstborn or only child isn’t always
easy. I’m the oldest of three boys. The next appeared nine years later, and the
third two years later. By the time my middle brother arrived, I could help care
for him, relieving Mom and Dad of some of the stress.
As soon as I was old enough, my parents taught me
to wash the dishes, fold the laundry, take out the trash, pick up my room, and
cut the grass. When I was sixteen, Dad thought I needed to establish good
credit. So, off to the furniture store we went, where I purchased a solid oak
bedroom suite and charged it. This was one of many of Dad’s infamous ways to
teach me responsibility, which I now appreciate.
Since I grew up in the 1960s and 70s, the haircut
rule frustrated me. By this time, my father was a full-time preacher. Church
folks tended to have expectations of the pastor’s children—one being that they
would not be hippies. While Dad gave me a little leeway, it wasn’t as much as I
wanted. He said two inches below the ear; I wanted four inches below the
shoulder. Of course, he won out by giving me the infamous saying, “As long as
your feet are under my table, you will do what I say.”
Eighteen was my benchmark. Long before it
arrived, I made plans to move out as soon as I celebrated that birthday. And I
did. The responsibility my parents taught me through various miserable
exercises, however, made me what they hoped for: responsible. I found a job and
a house to rent and faced the world.
By the time my two kids came along, I had mulled
over some of my parents’ techniques—deciding which to keep, which to modify,
and which to toss out with the bathwater. Looking back on my childhood, I
concluded that much of what my parents did might have been for them, not me.
Don’t Live Your Failed Expectations Through Your
Children
I don’t know what my dad’s childhood dreams were,
but Mom’s dream was to become a concert pianist. With one quick word, “Yes,”
her dream died, and at least one of Dad’s materialized: to marry her. She
became a full-time secretary and soon a full-time preacher’s wife. Since she
had been playing the piano since she was a child, she wanted a son who could
play it as well. Men made better piano players, she thought. She tried her
best, but I wasn’t interested.
I look back with regret on several things I
didn’t do that my parents wanted. Nevertheless, when my two children came
along, I approached things a little differently. Instead of making demands on
them—that they play ball, run track, or get involved in gymnastics—my wife and
I let them choose. Living out my childhood and teenage neglects through them
wouldn’t soothe my regret.
Don’t Repeat Poor Parenting Techniques
Doing the same thing the same way and expecting
different results defines insanity. Dad and Mom believed in spankings for
insolent behavior, along with various other restrictions. Back then, they
didn’t have to worry about teachers at school or a random stranger in the store
calling the Department of Social Services. Their disciplinary methods would now
lack political correctness.
I had quite a few years to consider my parents’
techniques before my two children came along. Some I held to; others I revamped
or buried. I also thought about the theme of responsibility that ran so heavily
through my childhood. To a degree, it seemed to interfere with my childhood.
For the most part, I found that my parents’
parenting methods were effective and honorable. I kept those. The few I thought
lacked effectiveness, I tossed. I didn’t have to repeat the process.
Don’t Neglect Parenting Techniques That Teach
I think Mom and Dad designed a few of their
disciplinary measures to relieve their stress or prove a point. After all, when
I questioned some of them, I got the standard no-brainer answer: “Because I
said so.”
Discipline entails teaching. I wasn’t sure all my
parents’ techniques did that—at least, positively. Nor did all their attempts
to teach me responsibility.
Teaching my children to be who God created them
to be was more important than repeating my parents’ parenting methods. After
all, this parenting thing was supposed to be about them, not me or their
mother.
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