Resilience

resilient: adj. capable of resuming its shape, position, etc. after being subjected to stress, elastic. [from the Latin, resiliens, resilire, to spring back]

I often say it is my goal to raise independent, resilient children. As a Mom, though, it's hard to gauge how resilient I actually am.

At first, the relentless physical and emotional demands of caring for a tiny baby, of being responsible for his well-being, even feeding him from my very self, was a shock. It took a good six weeks for me to come to terms with the fact that motherhood was a 24 hour per day job. Until I did, resilience eluded me.

But with time and help, I adjusted. That first stretching into the new shape of motherhood almost broke me, but didn't. To my surprise I found I had a stronger, more flexible core than I imagined.

I have come to love being a Mom. And I have learned that this process of stretching, reaching, snapping back occurs on multiple levels over days, weeks, even years. Every childhood phase, medical scare or job worry pulls at me. In time each stress passes. I adjust and make my way again.

My life as a Mom has its undisputed high points. I had a few moments on Easter day when I stood fully in the warm sunbeam of familial love. When I felt the perfection of the day and of our life. It couldn't have felt better. What a contrast from those first difficult days.

There are lows as well, sometimes right on the heels of the highs.

On Monday, I was pounded by relentless waves of bickering. The children clawed through their last day of vacation by finding innovative ways to annoy and betray one another. I grew tired of the rancor. It was an assault to my spirit and my senses.

The sole piece of mail I received that day was a one-line rejection of a resume I had submitted to a local non-profit. It was for a job I knew I could do, was excited about, was hopeful for. Despite my skills, background, and stellar references, they didn't even interview me.

Talk about bruised pride.

It was a sad end to a difficult day.

I fumbled my way through supper and put the children to bed. My husband, seeing my disappointment, was quiet. He brought me tea and asked about my plans for the evening.

I was nestled in a blanket in a cozy corner of the couch, but three full baskets of clean, unfolded laundry glared at me from across the room. I gave them a nod, "tackle those, I guess."

"Nonsense. Wait here." Moments later, he left the house.

It was the nudge I needed to give myself a reprieve from the housework. I looked over the letter again and took guilty pleasure in finding a spelling mistake.

I was content with the quiet until my husband returned. "You need a distraction," he told me as he popped in a DVD.

It was Beverly Hills Cop. He knew just what would brighten my mood. Vintage Eddie Murphy.

I was so grateful for him. We talked into the night and I confessed my feelings.

The worst part of it was that I knew at least ten different ways I would have been able to help this non-profit do its work more effectively. He listened carefully and told me it was their loss that they hadn't given me a chance. The fact that theirs is a cause I care about just made the rejection harder to take.

It has forced me to face the question: How resilient am I?

My caring spouse gave me a pretty good bounce back in the attitude department. But the professional side remains unresolved.

I am a woman of action, impatient with waiting for others' approval. Maybe it's time to make my own opportunities. I may have been stretched, but I haven't shattered, right?

So I'll take some time to rethink, reset my priorities, and make a plan of action. Through the process, maybe the way forward will reveal itself.

There are times when I want to break instead of springing back.

Then I tell myself today is not the day for breaking.

It's not what Moms do.

- Midwest Mom

On the Road to Raising Resilient Children

Isn't it funny the way toddlers sometimes insist on doing things themselves. My daughter is two now, but from the first moment she could speak, it seemed like "I do it MYSELF!" was a staple of her vocabulary.

I try to view her independence as a good thing. Since I'm parenting three children, it is wonderful that she wants to put on her own shoes, feed herself, or dress herself. I think it is an important part of raising a child to give them the room to try things themselves -- even if it seems like they've chosen a task far beyond their abilities. Quite often, like this morning when my daughter buckled her own sandals, I've been surprised at the results!

But in the process of trying a new task herself, my daughter will sometimes get really frustrated. She will drive at a solution that eludes her. Finally, she will let out a gutteral scream I know comes from the pit of her soul.

When she's at the end of her rope, though, I give her time to feel her own frustration. I like to watch what comes after that point, because it is almost always a leap in development for her. Either she will regroup and try a new method or she will power through her frustration and get the thing right -- like when she finally learned how to ride her tricycle and hollered until she got the rhythm of one pedal then the other.

We have photos of my oldest son trying like crazy to crawl forward. All he could manage was to scoot himself backward. In the photos, his face got redder and redder until finally, he reached for the toy in front of him that was just out of reach -- and got it! What a smile of victory he had on his face! That smile would not have been possible if we had not been willing to step back and let him find his own way.

There are many times when my children are frustrated and they will stop in a quiet moment, look over and ask for help. I try to be present and accessible when they are trying to figure out something new. Sometimes, I will get them started or give them a hint or remind them of the steps they will need to take to accomplish their goal. My middle son needs encouragement if he can't get his seatbelt on right away. "I can't do it!" he will cry in despair. "You can do it. And we will wait as long as it takes for you to do it," I reply. Removing the time pressure usually does the trick for him. He gets it buckled. At the point that my children reach out for help, I think it is important to be there -- not to swoop in and do it for them, but to teach them to solve the problem themselves.

I know many parents never think NOT to help their child. Moms are compulsive, professional helpers, aren't we? But I have made the decision to start early, encouraging my children to make their own choices and to feel the consequences of those choices. I have started with the little tasks my children ask to do on their own.

Why?

When mothers do everything for their children, they are silently saying "I think you are helpless. You cannot do this for yourself." Even if they never say the words, parents who do every little thing for their child are creating a child who will be dependent on them. It can be terribly comforting for a parent to be needed so much. But, isn't the goal of parenting to lovingly raise children who can think and do and decide what is best for themselves?

If a parent never gives their child the chance to be frustrated and possibly fail, they are depriving that child of valuable experience in problem-solving and decision-making. I remember having to make the first hard decisions of my adulthood and feeling paralyzed. I talked to my father about it. "Well, princess," he said supportively, "you need to sit down and figure things out for yourself. I will help you if you need me, but these are your decisions to make."

I know now that those are the best words he could have said to me. Did I have to flounder? Yes. Did I have to wonder if I was making the right choices? Yes. Was there a chance I could fail at what I tried? Absolutely. But when I reached out for help, my Dad treated me like an adult. I was 16 years old at the time. His confidence in me helped me to have confidence in myself.

When it comes time for my own children to be making their way in the world, I want them to have confidence in their own choices. I want for them to have the courage to try new things, even if they might fail. And if and when they do fail or make the wrong choice, I want them to be able to regroup, learn, and change direction.

Does that start with shoe-tying or the tricycle? Maybe it does. Only time will tell.


Midwest Mom