Simplifying… me

My six-year-old, Sydney, came skipping down the stairs the other day wearing her sassy jeans, pink t-shirt, flip-flops, Disney Princess sunglasses atop her head, swinging her sparkly purple purse on her forearm.  When she met me at the bottom of the staircase she looked me straight in the eye and announced, “I’m ready.”  She was referring to the Kids Praise Company spring musical auditions at our church.  For weeks she had been sitting with her CD player rehearsing each song, especially her favorites, closing her eyes in deep concentration so as not to miss any of the notes.  The day for auditions had finally come, and like she said, Sydney was ready.

After the try-outs she made her way over to where I was waiting, shoulders back, head held high, and informed me that she got it.  She did it.  In her words, “I did great!”  I had to get a little clarification on the “I got it” statement, seeing that we were surrounded by a room full of children waiting to audition.  She didn’t actually get any part, yet, but was so confident in her performance that there was no doubt in her mind that she had nailed the audition.

That girl has more confidence in her little finger than I have in my whole body.  There are times I wonder to myself, “Whose kid is this?”  She is so secure.  Whether or not she is even singing on key, she believes she’s a superstar.  And I am in awe.

One of my favorite movies of all time is The Sound Of Music.  In it, Maria – Julie Andrews – dances through the streets of Salzburg, swinging her guitar case in one hand singing, “I have confidence in confidence alone!”  It is truly inspirational.  I want that kind of confidence.  And I want my children to have that too.

Sadly, I have to say there is a growing trend in our society that believes in order to instill confidence and achievement in our children, we must remove any factors that may, in fact, set them up for failure.  In his article,”Self-Esteem, Self-Destruction”, George Will writes about a school in Massachusetts that teaches children to jump rope without using ropes.  Apparently, this is supposed to raise their self-esteem because failure to jump rope (with an actual rope) could impair their self-concept for life.  This is insanity to me!  Citing Po Bronson and Ashley Merryman from their book, “NutureShock: New Thinking About Children”, Will writes:

“Children incessantly praised for their intelligence (often by parents who are really praising themselves) often underrate the importance of effort.  Also, overpraised children are prone to cheating because they have not developed strategies for coping with failure.”

Confidence and a healthy self-esteem are achieved, not by incessant praise and equality in sports, but by failure: learning to try and try and try again.  Pride in our kids should not be contingent on whether or not they do well in soccer, ballet or academics, but how much effort and discipline they have put into them.

As we were driving home from the spring musical auditions I had a perfect teaching moment with Sydney.  We began talking about the part she had tried out for.  She monopolized the first half of the conversation by expressing her passion for this particular role.  She could “see herself” playing this part, and was adamant that she got it.  Eventually, I was able to slowly explain to her that just because she tried out did not necessarily mean that she was going to get the part.  I had her think about all the other boys and girls sitting in the waiting room to audition.  There were a lot of children trying out for parts, some of them for the same role she wanted.  I pointed out that there are not enough solos and speaking parts for everyone.  I gently explained that there was a real possibility that she might not get the solo she auditioned for, and perhaps not get anything at all.  Over the next fifteen minutes I listened as her whole world came crashing down.  Was I being mean to my daughter, or destroying her self-esteem by telling her the truth?  No way.  Once she was able to face reality, get a good cry out of her system and talk through her “I can’t handle it!” feelings, she settled down.

Later, Sydney asked me if I was going to be proud of her if she got the solo.  I said no.  I would not be proud of her if she got it, because I was already proud of her for being brave enough to try out in the first place.  I told Sydney that I would be very happy for her if she, indeed, got the part, and subsequently, would be very sad for her if she didn’t.  However, my pride in her was already established because of her bravery, character and simply because of who she is.

Confidence doesn’t come easy.  Children have to learn how to work for those things they really want.  They have to learn to come to grips with failure, and be encouraged to keep on trying – to not give up just because something is hard.  I could care less if my kids get the best parts in spring musicals, make the soccer team or have the best grades in the class.  I believe they are completely capable of succeeding.  And if they are working hard, putting their best foot forward and not giving up when disappointment comes, then I’ll know I’ve done a good job.  I will have given them something far more valuable than a false sense of success.  I will have instilled in them the ability to fail and the ability to achieve – confidence in confidence alone!

Last Thursday evening fans everywhere tuned in to watch the miracle of birth The Office style.  Michael got an eye-full when he prematurely marched into the delivery room, Dwight was inspired to grow his business by growing a family, and love bloomed between Andy and the new office receptionist.  I could almost hear little birds chirping sweet songs of spring.  (Birds chirping?  I might be pushing it just a little bit with that last comment.)  Aside from watching Jim and Pam swim through the rush of emotions as they wrapped their brains around the reality of becoming parents, anticipating the welcome of their baby girl, I found myself walking through this awkward forty-five minute journey with them.  For anyone who has become a parent, you know exactly what I mean.  It is both exhilarating and terrifying all at the same time.

My favorite part of the episode was after the adrenaline died down, baby was born, and the visitors departed, Jim and Pam were left all alone with their tiny infant child.  I could so relate to the wave of emotions they were portraying – ah…sweet parenthood.  And then, as if this precious seven-pound creature had some foreknowledge and insight that this was her cue to speak up, her moment to shine in the spotlight of celebrity, she began crying.  Crying loudly, I might add.  Apparently, she was hungry.  Pam tried to nurse her, but their perfect bundle of joy was not going to have anything to do with it. 

Now for the reality check: the struggle, the stress, the perfect couple-with-happily-nursing-baby occupying the bed next to them, and the awkward visit from a male lactation nurse. 

I immediately found myself transported back to the Cascade Valley maternity ward, holding my 6 pound, 12 ounce baby girl, Sydney.  Joel and I would unwrap and wrap her back up in her swaddle over and over again, just to take a peek at her tiny feet and hands.  I gazed for minutes on end at this sweet miracle, completely mesmerized.  When she was asleep, I was in love. 

But when she woke up, I was scared out of my mind!  And here is where art imitates life.  My cute bundle of joy didn’t want to nurse.  She didn’t want to eat. When she was conscious, she didn’t want to have anything to do with me.  I was heartbroken, in tears and fighting a major battle with raging hormones.  Motherhood wasn’t supposed to look like this.  Nursing was supposed to be natural…right?  A baby was supposed to bond with its mommy…right?  So, what was wrong with me, what was wrong with my baby, and why couldn’t we get this thing right…the one thing that was supposed to come naturally to both of us? 

We had nurses, lactation specialists (all female, thank God), and our pediatrician at our beck and call.  I had so many different hands and machines on my “you know whats” that I didn’t quite feel like a woman anymore.  I was the cow.   I was a milk producer who felt as though she was failing at the one job she believed she was made to do well.  I found myself irritated with my newborn.  Sydney was already getting on my nerves and she wasn’t even forty-eight hours old.  Her strong will and my strong will came head-to-head.  Devastated and discouraged, I sat in my hospital bed watching all the sweet visions of the nursing mother with child go up in smoke right before my eyes. 

Unlike Pam, who was nursing brilliantly by the end of the show, it took us five weeks, a couple of home visits from my lactation nurse, and one or two “mommy time-outs” to finally get the breast feeding thing figured out.  Once Sydney got the hang of it, she became the biggest baby in the church nursery, ballooning to a whopping 20 pounds by the time she turned six months old.  We became pros. 

As Sydney has grown, I’ve seen much of those early lessons learned in the first few weeks of her life transition right along with her- and me.  To achieve the next milestone there is often times resistance.  She will fight it.  We’re maneuvering through some math challenges at school currently, and I can see that same fight or flight attitude flaring up in her.  It takes everything within me to not lose my patience when she is facing a new growth challenge.  Why she resists it so much is beyond me.  But rather than fight along with her, I am learning to relax, listen, observe, and support her.  I can’t make her understand math, or friendships, or failing at something, or whatever “crisis” she may be up against.  I can, however, be her steady support.  Listening, coaching, loving, and guiding.  Eventually she’ll get it.  She’ll overcome.  She’ll succeed, but she will do it in her time. 

The one thing I believe I am helping her learn- and it started in that cramped hospital room with nurses, electric pumps and family members cheering us on- is to never give up.  If it takes until the end of the sit-com, or five weeks of sticking to it, or years of practice and failure, never, ever, ever give up.  If it’s worth anything, then it’s worth the pain and the struggle, the blood, sweat, and tears to see it accomplished.

Sydney is only six-years-old.  We have a long way to go together.  We are both learning and growing.  My hope and prayer is that we will not give up, no matter what obstacle comes our way. 

My best wishes go out to Jim and Pam, fictitious characters who well portrayed a very non-fictional reality for so many of us.  The adventure has just begun!