This came across my facebook feed and it's a great read. Although
we're a long way off from sliding at the playground I'm pretty sure that
this is the kinda mom I'll be.
Mom's Plea: Please Don't Help My Kids | Written by Kate Bassford Baker
"Dear Other Parents At The Park:
Please do not lift my daughters
to the top of the ladder, especially after you’ve just heard me tell
them I wasn’t going to do it for them and encourage them to try it
themselves.
I am not sitting here, 15 whole feet away from my
kids, because I am too lazy to get up. I am sitting here because I
didn’t bring them to the park so they could learn how to manipulate
others into doing the hard work for them. I brought them here so they
could learn to do it themselves.
They’re not here to be at the top
of the ladder; they are here to learn to climb. If they can’t do it on
their own, they will survive the disappointment. What’s more, they will
have a goal and the incentive to work to achieve it.
In the
meantime, they can use the stairs. I want them to tire of their own
limitations and decide to push past them and put in the effort to make
that happen without any help from me.
It is not my job — and it is
certainly not yours — to prevent my children from feeling frustration,
fear, or discomfort. If I do, I have robbed them of the opportunity to
learn that those things are not the end of the world, and can be
overcome or used to their advantage.
If they get stuck, it is not
my job to save them immediately. If I do, I have robbed them of the
opportunity to learn to calm themselves, assess their situation, and try
to problem solve their own way out of it.
It is not my job to
keep them from falling. If I do, I have robbed them of the opportunity
to learn that falling is possible but worth the risk, and that they can,
in fact, get up again.
I don’t want my daughters to learn that they can’t overcome obstacles
without help. I don’t want them to learn that they can reach great
heights without effort. I don’t want them to learn that they are
entitled to the reward without having to push through whatever it is
that’s holding them back and *earn* it.
Because — and this might
come as a surprise to you — none of those things are true. And if I let
them think for one moment that they are, I have failed them as a mother.
I want my girls to know the exhilaration of overcoming fear and doubt and achieving a hard-won success.
I want them to believe in their own abilities and be confident and determined in their actions.
I want them to accept their limitations until they can figure out a way past them on their own significant power.
I
want them to feel capable of making their own decisions, developing
their own skills, taking their own risks, and coping with their own
feelings.
I want them to climb that ladder without any help, however well-intentioned, from you.
Because they can. I know it. And if I give them a little space, they will soon know it, too.
So
I’ll thank you to stand back and let me do my job, here, which consists
mostly of resisting the very same impulses you are indulging, and
biting my tongue when I want to yell, “BE CAREFUL,” and choosing,
deliberately, painfully, repeatedly, to stand back instead of rush
forward.
Because, as they grow up, the ladders will only get
taller, and scarier, and much more difficult to climb. And I don’t know
about you, but I’d rather help them learn the skills they’ll need to
navigate them now, while a misstep means a bumped head or scraped knee
that can be healed with a kiss, while the most difficult of hills can be
conquered by chanting, “I think I can, I think I can”, and while those
15 whole feet between us still feels, to them, like I’m much too far
away"
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