I don’t have any secrets for being happy with one’s kids.
Some days, I love being with them and find everything they do delightful. Other days even the cutest things don’t make a dent in my crummy mood. I try to find commonalities between the different good days, but the obvious things aren’t the things that the good days share. Some good days involve getting together with friends; others involve keeping to ourselves. Some good days we stay in the house all day; other good days we spend the whole day outside. Some good days we’re productive, getting schoolwork and housework and meal prep done; others, we don’t even change out of our pjs.
There must be something subtler going on here.
Some of the clues I’ve gathered:
1) It’s not about the kids; it’s about me. The amount of happiness and delight I feel with my children does not directly correlate to how they’re acting on any given day. If I’m in a bad mood, they can be little angels who moonlight as gag comics who’d give Chaplin a run for his money, and I’ll still want to escape. If I’m in a good mood, they can throw raspberries on the carpet and stomp on them, and I’ll find them delightful.
2) I’m more likely to feel happy with my kids if I feel satisfied that my own needs have been met. This is a moving target, but I generally feel my needs have been met if I feel good physically and if I feel like I’ve accomplished something. Sometimes these things are mutually exclusive, like when I stay up late to blog. If I went to bed earlier, I’d be well-rested (potentially), but I’d feel bad that I didn’t post to the blog. If I stay up to post, I’ve got that satisfaction, but I’m running on fumes sleep-wise. But the key is realizing that there’s a balance I need to strike for the well-being of my autonomous self (such as that autonomy is with two small children) if I’m going to feel happy in concert with my closest loved ones. It’s not a guarantee for happiness, but I think it’s one element that increases the odds of harmony.
3) Some days it’s better to just let them eat marshmallows for breakfast. Some days I’m in such a touchy mood that if I try to direct any activity with my children, it’s going to end in tears. On those days, it’s less harmful to let them eat sugary crap for breakfast than it is to try to pressure them into eating their oatmeal. Some days, I just scrap my plans and let them take the reins. My children respond best to enthusiasm and silliness to get them over the tedious parts of various tasks (which always happen when they’re on the verge of learning something new). They don’t seem to find sarcasm and dark looks motivating. If I can’t be present enough to be enthusiastic and silly, we’re probably better off leaving school, housework, and anything else productive for another day, and instead lounging around in our pjs (or in various states of undress), eating whatever leftovers we can find in the fridge, and (gasp!) watching TV. While I prefer to have both, if I have to choose between sharing happiness with my kids and getting crap done, I’ll choose the former. (Actually, that’s not true. I usually choose the latter then kick myself later. I want to choose the former, though, and put the relationship ahead of the getting stuff done.)
4) A relationship is a process, not an end result. I have an all-or-nothing mentality when it comes to my dealings with myself. If I try to take a deep breath before losing it and I lose it anyway, I’m a complete and utter failure and there’s no hope for redemption. Being a mom isn’t about being perfect. It’s about loving my kids and not giving up on doing things better for the sake of our relationship. I’m not trying not to yell because I want to be perfect (well, I am, but I shouldn’t be). I’m trying not to yell because speaking in a loving manner to my progeny increases the love we feel for one another and the closeness of our bond. We live in an individualistic society. If my family isn’t close and strong and secure in the unconditional nature of our love for one another, we’re all alone, clinging to debris in a vast ocean.
That’s what I’ve got so far. I’m not sure how to translate these thoughts into a specific action plan, but maybe if I can just keep them in mind, I’ll have a better chance at familial bliss.
Imperfect Happiness 