The Unspoken Rule
When I took MAPP training from DFCS, one assignment was to list the rules in my house. I had two.
1) Kids are allowed to play in the dirt and get dirty.
2) Sometimes, it’s ok to eat dessert first.
Neither rule meant that I ran a madhouse— it just meant that I didn’t want to be a rigid, uptight parent. Kids need play time, and I’d rather they play outdoors and find creative ways to interact with and become familiar with their world instead of being couch potatoes watching TV or glued to phones and iPads. Dirt cleans up; it’s not the end of the world.
I wanted to be the safe house, the place where kids could unexpectedly bring their friends home, where I passed out hugs and cookies instead of yelling and chaos. I’m just saying they are kids for such a short time. I wanted them to have the freedom to be kids without shame or unrealistic expectations. Not that I expected to be buddy-buddy. I was still the parent. I didn't want to be my mom.
Then I remember occasions when that first philosophy was tested. Like the time I was going to take Bethany to do a photo shoot together. I had her ready, and while I was getting ready, she entertained herself. Sweet girl found a jar of Vaseline and put it all over her hair. This wasn't a problem you could fix with a quick hair wash. Oh no, that grease needs repeat washing and pretty much wearing out. And we had an appointment that morning for this photo shoot.
No tears, just HiKath pulling out a hat trick. She was already a hat baby, so she wore a big hat to cover up that greasy head for our pictures. I didn’t buy additional pictures, but I still have that 8x10 Olan Mills to remember the day she styled her own hair for the photo shoot.
Fast forward to my grandkids the day I took them to Gainesville Botanical Gardens in 2021. They loved the kids’ garden and the fountains that shot back and forth. After an hour of hard play, they were all soaking wet. Getting soaking wet wasn’t a big deal, but it was still a moment of choices and consequences. I didn’t plan for a change of clothes or towels for a garden visit. They were starving when we left the gardens and wanted to eat. I said, I’ll take you to a drive-through, but I’m sorry, I can’t take you inside to a sit-down place when you are soaking wet. Bummer.
Two years later, when I was staying with them for a few days, I spontaneously took them to the square and let them play in the fountains. Everyone had the best time, and this time, I had towels in my car.
As for rule #2, meh—I have no tales to tell. The kids are good eaters and happier when they have food in their tummy. I carry snacks and feed them healthy meals. I don’t lose any sleep over one-off occasions.
Despite the 2 rules, I still sometimes failed at the unspoken one, and my mother’s voice came out of my mouth.
I distinctly remember the day I was at my daughter’s house, watching the grandkids playing on the trampoline. Kelly came outside, and I told her, “I am so freaking proud of you.”
She looked a little surprised or confused. “Huh?”
I told her, “You are such a good mom; you are doing such a good job with these kids. I did not have a great example of a mom, unfortunately; neither did you. I’m sorry I didn’t do better. I’m sorry for all the times I opened my mouth and my mother’s voice came out. But look at these kids. You’re killing it. I’m proud of you.”
