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Welcome to familywisdom.com, a website dedicated to informing and inspiring couples and families. Each week you will find a new article, story or essay about parenting, marriage or life. Suggestions for articles and questions to Ellen Terich are welcome. You can contact her at e.terich1@verizon.net |
A STORY FOR MOTHER'S DAY 2003-05-04 When I was about twelve years old, my mother went to work at a bank near our home. She had been a stay-at-home mom, as most women in her generation, but once my brother and I were in school during the day she saw no reason not to get out, earn a little money and make some new friends. I wasn't crazy about her working, mostly because it would mean I had to pitch in more at home. One of my daily chores, once my mother went to work, was to take the laundry down from the clothes line each afternoon. We only had a washing machine, my parents resisting the added expense of a dryer because the sun could do just as good a job, and much more cheaply. So on mornings when rain wasn't in the forecast, my mother would wash a load of clothes and hang them to dry in the backyard. I was in charge of taking them down, folding them, and bringing them inside before my mother came home. Now I also did other chores in the house: cleaning my room, vacuuming, washing dishes, etc., but for some reason I really resented this chore. Perhaps it was my resistance to my mother going to work, which led to the new chore, or maybe I was just lazy. Whatever the reason, my attitude had to be showing to all the neighbors who, because we had no fences around our homes, were eyewitnesses to the tantrums that ensued. Each afternoon, I would put off the chore until about five minutes before my mother's arrival and then race out to the backyard, rip the clothes off the line, clothes pins flying, and throw the clothes into the basket, leaving most of the clothes pins on the grass. Then, I'd start folding just as my mother walked in. (Sometimes I didn't even bother with the folding.) One day, my mother had the day off and when I came home from school she was sitting in the kitchen talking to Mrs. Jura, a grandmother who lived directly behind us. I didn't think much of it and went into my room to change out of my school uniform. When I came into the kitchen looking for a snack, the kindly gray haired woman was gone and my mother said she wanted to talk to me about something Mrs. Jura had told her. What could Mrs. Jura possibly have to say that could be of interest to me? I barely knew the woman and she certainly didn't know anything about me. "Mrs. Jura came over to tell me what a devoted daughter I have" my mother said. "She thinks it's wonderful that you help me by taking down the clothes every afternoon. I thought you should know that." I was stunned! If Mrs. Jura had been spying on me in the afternoon, she must have seen me rip the clothes off the line. Surely she had witnessed the clothes pins flying. Yet she was telling my mother I was a good daughter. I wasn't sure what was going on. I felt ashamed and guilty. Did a grown-up really praise me for something I was obviously doing under protest? Usually adults are disturbed by a child's negative attitude. But Mrs. Jura, according to my mother, noticed what I was doing right (helping my mother) and not what I was doing wrong (being a brat about it). Not only have I never forgotten that episode, I have used the story many times in my role as a therapist, especially when teaching parents to notice the positive things their children do. So often a child will be stubborn or lazy or argumentative or downright hostile and parents find themselves in an endless cycle of criticizing, lecturing and punishing their children, rather than finding something to approve of. A few parents have assured me that their child is so difficult that they can't think of anything to praise. Sometimes in response I say "even if the only thing you can praise is how he breathes, then praise his breathing." And other times I tell my story. To be honest, to this day I don't know who was the better mother - my mother or the grandmotherly Mrs. Jura. For all I know, Mrs. Jura could have ratted on me to my mother who then decided to take a different approach with me. But it doesn't really matter, because I learned two important lessons. One was that no matter how alone you think you are, your behavior may be seen by an observant mother, and you might want to take that into account before you have a tantrum. The other lesson was that, even though I wasn't happy about a chore I had to do and apparently let those around me know it, a mother was generous enough to give me credit anyway. This episode not only made me a better daughter ( I never ripped clothes off the clothes line again), it also made me a better mother. When dealing with my own children, I tried never to forgot the lesson about giving credit. |