It has been a busy, crazy, stressful week. The fact that I made it through without running amok is more of a credit to my self-control than I ever thought myself capable of, and I don't care to ever push my boundaries that far again, that's for sure!
I read a post on Facebook the other day that said something to the effect of "Don't get so hung up on trying to raise a good kid that you forget you already have one", and thought that was some great advice. We all do that, don't we? It's easy to get hung up on rules, requirements, and plain ole' "I won't raise a kid who does that"! What about when it is the opposite, though? This week I found myself in a situation that seriously made me question myself as a mother. It was completely unfair to give myself the emotional beating that I did, but since when has fair ever stopped a mother from doubting herself?
What happened is this: It was a busy Friday. My homeschooled 10-year-old son had gone to walk his little brother and sister home from their school, which is about 5 blocks away, and I was on the front porch going through a bunch of items being set out for the city-wide yard sale the next day. I had been working feverishly all day trying to comb through my horded crafting supplies and home-decor, and was, quite frankly, exhausted. The kids got home and I put them to work hauling and carting, because kids are so good at that . . . they only complained every five seconds, and I was attempting to sort the items into some kind of coherent order to make my Saturday 5am yard sale setup easier. I happened to look up about the time a police cruiser pulled up in front of my home. *cringe*
I assumed a lot of things: They were needing information on a random crime that had occurred in the neighborhood, or maybe serving summons, or some other benign reason, but in fact, no. There was, in fact, a very serious reason they were there. My children. My beautiful children that have walked the same path home every day for months. My same beautiful children who are accompanied by their 10-year-old brother who can cook, take care of baby brother, and even knows, on a beginners level, how to sew decided they were going to vandalize property all the way home. To make matters worse? They had been doing it for almost a week!!! Vandalizing . . . that seems a pretty serious word, right? I mean, you may be wondering how much damage a 10, 7, and 5-year-old could do in a 5-block radius, and I can see why you might wonder. Well, they got into a mailbox and took some mail (federal crime), and they opened it. What was inside, you might ask? Film. Specialty film, at that, that a hobbyist uses. The approximate worth of the film that had disappeared over a weeks time was quoted to me by the officer as being worth a little over a thousand dollars.
Apparently, over the course of a week, the elderly couple decided they needed to sit out and watch for the person stealing their mail and my children were spotted, followed home, and then reported to the police. The officer, who was joined shortly by a second, walked into my yard and immediately pointed my daughter (age 7) out as a culprit. She had gotten into the mailbox, taken a package to her brother (10), which he proceeded to open, shred the film, and dump into the back of a truck almost a block away, which ironically belonged to a family member of the hijacked mail. My five-year-old son apparently had gone onto a front porch and moved a plant from a stand shaped like a bicycle and decided he was going to ride it home before being shooed away by the homeowner. I immediately got fuming mad. My children: the children I have raised to never touch another's property, the children who have been taught that something has no real value unless you work for it, the same children who I have applauded time and again for their responsibility.
You can imagine my response. There was no denying it. They were caught red-handed. One of the officers told my son he was seconds away from going to the youth shelter. The other sat and nodded seriously and took notes. I begged them to give my children a ride in the police cruiser to teach them a healthy respect for the law. They said no. Ok. They basically paraded in, gave the kids a little lecture and left after giving me the address the incidents had occurred at. Way to teach them a lesson, huh? So . . . My ten-year-old had been the ringleader in this little adventure, fine: I was going to teach him, and them by proxy, a lesson myself. They didn't know how much that mail was worth, but they DID know it was not theirs to touch!!!
I marched his little butt those 3 blocks away to the house it had all started with and we arrived to a group of people outside. They got the pleasure of seeing me drag his reluctant self up to their house while he was being chastised/berated/threatened the entire way, and when we finally made it to their yard he was almost trembling with the fear of apologizing. Good, I thought. Let him squirm. Little did he know that it was almost as hard for me to know what kind of lesson he had coming, but I sure wasn't going to show him how anxious I was. I was determined to make him sit there through every lecture, every tear, and every hateful glance. He was going to make amends!!!! He apologized, first. I then got the shock of my life as I heard them tell him not to worry about it, no big deal . . . they just wanted to bring it to someone's attention. Huh? I was so confused, but I just swallowed and asked the big question. The one I was dreading. The one I knew I had to ask.
"How much do I owe you for damages"?
Oh, nothing. Don't worry about it. Again, I am confused. "Will you please allow him to work something out with you? He needs to make this right, and I really don't want him getting off so light. Do you have yard work you need done? Maybe you have some things you need organized in your garage? Anything? I will make sure he does it. He will make this right. It's important that this becomes a lesson to him". Their response? Again . . . No, don't worry about it. No big deal. We just want him to grow up to be a good man. We just want him to grow into a child you can be proud of again.
Wow. I am now disgusted, but no longer at my children. I am angry with the world. I am angry with the police. I am so angry with this couple that could have made me pay them thousands of dollars, but didn't. I am angry because this is what is wrong with the world now. There is no accountability. There is no sense of self-pride anymore. There is no sense of real justice. I understand they were being nice, but as much as I appreciate that it also saddens me. They couldn't see my absolute NEED for him to work and sweat his little butt off for a couple of days to teach him respect for another's property? They couldn't understand a mother's desire to teach her son a moral lesson? They couldn't have come up with a few giant rocks that needed flipped over, you know to prevent them sunburning, or a log pile that needed moved exactly one inch to the left, no more no less, or a back-yard that needed completely de-weeded before mowing? Something??? Anything???? Nothing, really?
I can preach to my children all day. I can threaten and stomp my feet, and I can get mad and ground them, or take away everything but their bed and a light, but it really does take a village to raise a child. I can tell them something is wrong all day, but if there are no punishments out there why will they listen to me once they are adults. Even worse, they will grow up thinking that they can do anything they want, and then be shocked and amazed when they end up in jail at eighteen. Come on, world!!! It is time to step up. It's time to hold our children accountable. No more fear of speaking up. If you see my child messing up I expect you to march his butt home and give me a tongue-lashing right in front of him. Make him squirm. Show him that he cannot get away with silly nonsense. Show him he can't get away with big nonsense. You can rest assured that I would march your little mail-thief home and demand justice!!! Big crime or small, even if it's as cute as a five-year-old attempting to ride a planter shaped like a bicycle home, get on to them. Let them know you are watching. Let them know there are consequences.
My oldest is at his grandmothers house doing his pseudo jail-time in relative discomfort. No television, no friends, and an entire next-door lot to clean by himself. He is hauling trash. He is going to rake, and mow, and weed-eat. He is allowed one phone call to me a day, 2 minutes only, and all he is allowed to say is "Momma, I love you and I am sorry". He is eating beans for supper and he really hates beans. The point is that he is learning it is not okay to touch others' belongings. He is learning it is not okay to be a vandal. He is learning that there are consequences to our actions, and I guarantee you he will never again dare his little sister to get into someone's mailbox ever again. He will never again dare his little brother to go take something off a person's porch. He will learn this lesson if it kills me to teach it. Why him, and not all of them? Well . . . that one is simple too. It was his job to walk them home. It still all comes down to responsibility. He was responsible for them, and instead of doing his job he chose to corrupt them, instead. They are still being punished, but he has an additional, and equally important, lesson to learn as well. If you are going to do a job, do it right. End of Story. A job hastily or half-heartedly done was not done at all.
My point is this: If a child ever comes to you in apology, do not (I repeat: DO NOT) simply nod your head and accept. Make them accountable. Make them understand. This world is a hateful, cruel, and un-accepting place sometimes. Make sure they are ready to face it as adults with their head held high and a pure heart to lead them in the right direction. If a mother asks you for help, and it is in your power, you are doing neither her, nor her children, any favors by ignoring that request. There is always something a child can do to make up for a wrong. There is always something you can do to teach them. Every lesson has the potential to shape a child. Do you want to be the one to teach them good, or do you want to be the one that teaches them to be sneakier the next time??????? Think about it. You may not believe in everything I have said, and that is fine, but the simple, honest, and ugly truth is that whether you like it or not, whether you want it or not, you have a hand in raising every child you encounter. Make sure you make that encounter a memorable one. Teaching mercy and grace is an amazing thing, but do it while also teaching them responsibility and accountability. It really is possible!!!
I read a post on Facebook the other day that said something to the effect of "Don't get so hung up on trying to raise a good kid that you forget you already have one", and thought that was some great advice. We all do that, don't we? It's easy to get hung up on rules, requirements, and plain ole' "I won't raise a kid who does that"! What about when it is the opposite, though? This week I found myself in a situation that seriously made me question myself as a mother. It was completely unfair to give myself the emotional beating that I did, but since when has fair ever stopped a mother from doubting herself?
What happened is this: It was a busy Friday. My homeschooled 10-year-old son had gone to walk his little brother and sister home from their school, which is about 5 blocks away, and I was on the front porch going through a bunch of items being set out for the city-wide yard sale the next day. I had been working feverishly all day trying to comb through my horded crafting supplies and home-decor, and was, quite frankly, exhausted. The kids got home and I put them to work hauling and carting, because kids are so good at that . . . they only complained every five seconds, and I was attempting to sort the items into some kind of coherent order to make my Saturday 5am yard sale setup easier. I happened to look up about the time a police cruiser pulled up in front of my home. *cringe*
I assumed a lot of things: They were needing information on a random crime that had occurred in the neighborhood, or maybe serving summons, or some other benign reason, but in fact, no. There was, in fact, a very serious reason they were there. My children. My beautiful children that have walked the same path home every day for months. My same beautiful children who are accompanied by their 10-year-old brother who can cook, take care of baby brother, and even knows, on a beginners level, how to sew decided they were going to vandalize property all the way home. To make matters worse? They had been doing it for almost a week!!! Vandalizing . . . that seems a pretty serious word, right? I mean, you may be wondering how much damage a 10, 7, and 5-year-old could do in a 5-block radius, and I can see why you might wonder. Well, they got into a mailbox and took some mail (federal crime), and they opened it. What was inside, you might ask? Film. Specialty film, at that, that a hobbyist uses. The approximate worth of the film that had disappeared over a weeks time was quoted to me by the officer as being worth a little over a thousand dollars.
Apparently, over the course of a week, the elderly couple decided they needed to sit out and watch for the person stealing their mail and my children were spotted, followed home, and then reported to the police. The officer, who was joined shortly by a second, walked into my yard and immediately pointed my daughter (age 7) out as a culprit. She had gotten into the mailbox, taken a package to her brother (10), which he proceeded to open, shred the film, and dump into the back of a truck almost a block away, which ironically belonged to a family member of the hijacked mail. My five-year-old son apparently had gone onto a front porch and moved a plant from a stand shaped like a bicycle and decided he was going to ride it home before being shooed away by the homeowner. I immediately got fuming mad. My children: the children I have raised to never touch another's property, the children who have been taught that something has no real value unless you work for it, the same children who I have applauded time and again for their responsibility.
You can imagine my response. There was no denying it. They were caught red-handed. One of the officers told my son he was seconds away from going to the youth shelter. The other sat and nodded seriously and took notes. I begged them to give my children a ride in the police cruiser to teach them a healthy respect for the law. They said no. Ok. They basically paraded in, gave the kids a little lecture and left after giving me the address the incidents had occurred at. Way to teach them a lesson, huh? So . . . My ten-year-old had been the ringleader in this little adventure, fine: I was going to teach him, and them by proxy, a lesson myself. They didn't know how much that mail was worth, but they DID know it was not theirs to touch!!!
I marched his little butt those 3 blocks away to the house it had all started with and we arrived to a group of people outside. They got the pleasure of seeing me drag his reluctant self up to their house while he was being chastised/berated/threatened the entire way, and when we finally made it to their yard he was almost trembling with the fear of apologizing. Good, I thought. Let him squirm. Little did he know that it was almost as hard for me to know what kind of lesson he had coming, but I sure wasn't going to show him how anxious I was. I was determined to make him sit there through every lecture, every tear, and every hateful glance. He was going to make amends!!!! He apologized, first. I then got the shock of my life as I heard them tell him not to worry about it, no big deal . . . they just wanted to bring it to someone's attention. Huh? I was so confused, but I just swallowed and asked the big question. The one I was dreading. The one I knew I had to ask.
"How much do I owe you for damages"?
Oh, nothing. Don't worry about it. Again, I am confused. "Will you please allow him to work something out with you? He needs to make this right, and I really don't want him getting off so light. Do you have yard work you need done? Maybe you have some things you need organized in your garage? Anything? I will make sure he does it. He will make this right. It's important that this becomes a lesson to him". Their response? Again . . . No, don't worry about it. No big deal. We just want him to grow up to be a good man. We just want him to grow into a child you can be proud of again.
Wow. I am now disgusted, but no longer at my children. I am angry with the world. I am angry with the police. I am so angry with this couple that could have made me pay them thousands of dollars, but didn't. I am angry because this is what is wrong with the world now. There is no accountability. There is no sense of self-pride anymore. There is no sense of real justice. I understand they were being nice, but as much as I appreciate that it also saddens me. They couldn't see my absolute NEED for him to work and sweat his little butt off for a couple of days to teach him respect for another's property? They couldn't understand a mother's desire to teach her son a moral lesson? They couldn't have come up with a few giant rocks that needed flipped over, you know to prevent them sunburning, or a log pile that needed moved exactly one inch to the left, no more no less, or a back-yard that needed completely de-weeded before mowing? Something??? Anything???? Nothing, really?
I can preach to my children all day. I can threaten and stomp my feet, and I can get mad and ground them, or take away everything but their bed and a light, but it really does take a village to raise a child. I can tell them something is wrong all day, but if there are no punishments out there why will they listen to me once they are adults. Even worse, they will grow up thinking that they can do anything they want, and then be shocked and amazed when they end up in jail at eighteen. Come on, world!!! It is time to step up. It's time to hold our children accountable. No more fear of speaking up. If you see my child messing up I expect you to march his butt home and give me a tongue-lashing right in front of him. Make him squirm. Show him that he cannot get away with silly nonsense. Show him he can't get away with big nonsense. You can rest assured that I would march your little mail-thief home and demand justice!!! Big crime or small, even if it's as cute as a five-year-old attempting to ride a planter shaped like a bicycle home, get on to them. Let them know you are watching. Let them know there are consequences.
My oldest is at his grandmothers house doing his pseudo jail-time in relative discomfort. No television, no friends, and an entire next-door lot to clean by himself. He is hauling trash. He is going to rake, and mow, and weed-eat. He is allowed one phone call to me a day, 2 minutes only, and all he is allowed to say is "Momma, I love you and I am sorry". He is eating beans for supper and he really hates beans. The point is that he is learning it is not okay to touch others' belongings. He is learning it is not okay to be a vandal. He is learning that there are consequences to our actions, and I guarantee you he will never again dare his little sister to get into someone's mailbox ever again. He will never again dare his little brother to go take something off a person's porch. He will learn this lesson if it kills me to teach it. Why him, and not all of them? Well . . . that one is simple too. It was his job to walk them home. It still all comes down to responsibility. He was responsible for them, and instead of doing his job he chose to corrupt them, instead. They are still being punished, but he has an additional, and equally important, lesson to learn as well. If you are going to do a job, do it right. End of Story. A job hastily or half-heartedly done was not done at all.
My point is this: If a child ever comes to you in apology, do not (I repeat: DO NOT) simply nod your head and accept. Make them accountable. Make them understand. This world is a hateful, cruel, and un-accepting place sometimes. Make sure they are ready to face it as adults with their head held high and a pure heart to lead them in the right direction. If a mother asks you for help, and it is in your power, you are doing neither her, nor her children, any favors by ignoring that request. There is always something a child can do to make up for a wrong. There is always something you can do to teach them. Every lesson has the potential to shape a child. Do you want to be the one to teach them good, or do you want to be the one that teaches them to be sneakier the next time??????? Think about it. You may not believe in everything I have said, and that is fine, but the simple, honest, and ugly truth is that whether you like it or not, whether you want it or not, you have a hand in raising every child you encounter. Make sure you make that encounter a memorable one. Teaching mercy and grace is an amazing thing, but do it while also teaching them responsibility and accountability. It really is possible!!!