On raising kids and being a Becky

On raising kids and being a Becky

You’ve heard of the Man Flu, but have you heard of Little Kid Flu? It’s similar, but the voices strike at a muuuch higher octave, there are more demands for blankets and snacks, and they can’t work the remote yet, which circles back to demands in that same high-pitched octave. Anyway, I’m a recent survivor of the Little Kid, Man, and ME flu (the most brutal of them all). In those times, it’s really hard to stay the course in raising kind, loving kids who obey and respond well. It’s hard enough on a good day to work through the TODDLERTUDE™ (yes, I google-imaged the trademark symbol and put it right there next to the word toddlertude bc I just came up with it and I gotta say, it’s genius).
In a world of ‘you do you’, we’re trying to go against the flow of our culture and raise kids in a way that’s honoring to God. But it’s HARD, man! And needless to say, the responsibility of this privileged mom gig, and trying to make good choices myself to model to our girls how to make good choices themselves (and not yell shit when they drive over a concrete parking block) has been extra challenging when such sicknesses (as mentioned above) strike our household.
Which is why, all that to say, I want to be Becky when I grow up.
Who is Becky? She’s the florist who gave my girls balloons for “listening well to mom” while we were in the flower shop earlier today. We weren’t in there for long, mind you, but if you’ve ever been around a 3 and 4 year old, you know it doesn’t take long for them to shatter a vase, pick all the pedals off a flower, or run wild out the door and around the building 25 times before checkout. Becky saw my attempts at making sure they listened and understood what was expected of them, and she rewarded them with smiley face balloons. Becky the florist didn’t know at the time what a huge encouragement that would be to me. She didn’t know we just survived The Whole Family Flu, complete with a lot of whining, sister fights, arguing, impatience, and sleepless nights. It’s times like that when everything flies off the rails and you feel like you have no earthly idea what you’re doing as a parent and you feel like your kids would be better off raised by Yoda. She didn’t know then that I was growing wearing in doing well (and/or attempting to do well). So thanks, Becky, for the balloons (even if they were hiding their grumpy faces with them awhile later). Thanks for acknowledge that, while they don’t always listen well, they did that time. (Yes, let’s be Becky and cheer each other on and hand out balloons!) It was good for them to be rewarded by a kind stranger, and for me to feel seen as a mom who is trying her best and trying not to grow weary in this hard/fun/exhausting/awesome 24/7 mom gig.

Moms, consistency is the absolute hardest thing. But it makes a difference. Keep at it. XO.

Ps- in a world of Karens, BE A BECKY.

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