The Imperfect Parent

Troubled as the mother of an active toddler? Julie Hokin reckons it can be just the best time if you can stay positive.

Parenting! It had been a day when my four-year-old had pushed every boundary, tested all my parenting theories and worn me out physically, emotionally and spiritually.
“Mummy, will you lie beside me and listen to music until I go to sleep?”
Sigh. “Yes, Jayce.”
A vision of not-done housework danced in my head.
Sometime later: “Mummy?”
“Yes, Jayce.” The lecture on you-must-go-to-sleep-now readied itself for delivery.
“Mummy, I’m so glad I was in your tummy, then came into the world.”
Tears trickled down my face as I listened to the breathing that indicated my lad slept.

Parenting! Frustrating, confusing, rewarding, joyous, life changing and challenging.

Parent—I wanted to be the perfect one. I read, I studied and I watched those who I thought had it correct and I prayed. My training as a social-welfare worker had included a child development module. Then on September 1, 1997, my life and my set-in-concrete child-raising theories changed forever.

On numerous occasions during the past five years I’ve found myself questioning the sanity of my choice to become a parent. At times I feel inadequate, often a failure and definitely not equal to the task. But some certainties have surfaced during my experience. My parenting isn’t perfect. I’ve learned much and there is still more and will always be more to learn.

So from the perspective of an imperfect parent, I offer the following observations and suggestions:

When the bathroom is available it can be a sanctuary. I’ve spent many minutes locked in the bathroom, under the pretence of personal hygiene. The real reason was to shed tears, because as a parent I feel so inadequate. At other times it’s been to call on Heaven for wisdom because I don’t know how to contend with a challenging situation.

Sometimes it was simply to get five minutes of peace. On occasions I need a minute to compose myself before speaking or acting. There are also times when I need to laugh. The antics of my five-year-old can be humorous at times, but I don’t wish to offend him, so I collapse in mirth in private.

Each child, each child–parent combination, each situation is unique. There isn’t one rule, one solution, one way of doing things that is the universal answer. Remain flexible, thoughtful and open to ways of nurturing and enhancing relationships and finding solutions. Remember, just when I think I have mastered this parenting thing, my child develops and I’m back at square one.

Do not under any circumstance judge another’s parenting. Next week that may be me in the supermarket with the child throwing his only tantrum of the day. What works with one child may not necessarily work with another child. So I share with other parents; discuss ideas and skills; listen, incorporating healthy techniques that work for my child and me.

Respect the right of others to make healthy parenting choices that work for them, just as I expect others to respect my parenting choices. Remember, different doesn’t necessarily equal wrong.

Recognise the difference between wilful destructive behaviour and accidents. When my son was three, he was helping me clean the house. The handle of his broom brushed my favourite vase, knocking it to the floor and smashing it. This upset me and so he, too, became upset thinking he had done something wrong.

We sat while I explained that it was an accident, that Mummy was sad because it was her favourite vase, and that nobody had done anything wrong—we just needed to learn to be careful.

We still have accidents, but minimal damage control is required. My son immediately and willingly tells me when an accident has occurred. He knows that accidents aren’t punishable offences; they are something needing to be faced, rectified and learned from.

“Adult” does not equal perfection. Maturity does not equal getting it correct every time. There are times I must say, “I’m sorry, Jayce, I got it wrong, please forgive me.” My four-year-old has learned that we humans make mistakes. He has learned that humans are fallible, including Mum. Sorry and I forgive you are important healing words in our relationship.

I am unable to be all, and teach all, to my child. It is important that I identify and nurture appropriate and healthy mentor relationships for him. His life experience is more rounded and richer for the talents and wisdom these special people contribute to his life.

Practise pattern interrupt. A good sense of humour, a willingness to laugh at myself is an effective way of achieving this. At moments of extreme stress, frustration or emotional distress, Jayce and I sometimes forget to speak in a respectful manner to each other. When this occurs, our voices may become louder than necessary.

On one of these occasions a little voice said, “Mummy, why are you shouting at me? I don’t like it.”
In all honesty, I didn’t realise that my voice was raised. We sat and talked. Mummy’s ancestry was from people on the land and thus people used to using loud voices for the wide-open spaces. We arrived at a “pattern-interrupt” agreement. When we become caught in a spiral of frustration and unnecessary vocal volume, one of us will say, “Are you using the farm voice?”
The stress is interrupted; we end up giggling, hugging and saying sorry.

When I doubt my adequacy as a parent and realise I’m far from perfect, at those times I panic that my imperfections will damage my ability to nurture this precious child.

And when I’m not coping, I remember, “I love you, Mummy”; at times of confusion, I remember, “Mummy, I’m glad I came into this world”; and, as frustration grips me, I remember, “Mummy, are you using the farm voice again?”

My son and I love each other on both the good and not-so-good days. We work at learning about this parent–child relationship thing, and respecting one another. That may not be perfection, but I believe it is success.

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