Control

Quite awhile ago, I had a conversation with a friend who is going through a terrible time. As I sympathized with her about life's hard knocks and why we have them, I couldn't help but comment on her fabulous physique. I said it in jest...as a sort of, "at least you've got your looks" dumb thing to say, and she got a bit teary and replied, "It is the only part of my life I feel like I have any ability to control.  I can run as hard as I want and wherever I want and it keeps me sane."

I've been thinking quite a lot about her reasoning lately. I have been trying to get in shape and find some kind of weight-loss/healthy body mojo for months. Lots of months. Enough months wherein some motivation should have been found or pounds should have been lost. Instead, I find myself definitely stronger but horribly lacking in both calorie control and consistency. In other words, I am out of control!

But, I don't think that's how my psyche sees it. I've been thinking a lot about this and why I continue to make poor choices and I believe that, unlike my friend, who controls a portion of her life through rigorous exercise, I control it by choosing NOT to exercise on days when I can and choosing to eat whatever the heck I feel like.  I think this unfortunate perspective comes from the chaos and constant frustration I feel about the rest of my day to day activities. I  feel like what I am able to do in any given day is dependent on the whims and needs of everyone else...mostly from my children and their activities and moods but also from other outside forces. It's probably from having a toddler once again, a delightful but messy and unpredictable age, and I hover at about an eight or nine on a scale of I'm-going-to-lose-it-at-ten all day. And when I lose it, I eat. Whatever I choose. I gain some control back. Get that 10 back to a more functional 6 or 7 until the sugar euphoria morphs into body shape shame and I'm back at that 8 or 9. A ripped book, juice spill or heavy traffic will start the vicious cycle all over again.

Then, recently, a new development turned my head creating a different perspective.  While in the throes of the hardest job on earth, parenting, I produced a rare, suspended reaction in dealing with one of my children and a mistake he made. A mistake that definitely needed attention but I surprised us both when I didn't fly off the handle or cry or panic. I hugged him and said I needed to think about what to do. I apologize for the vagueness of the story but, out of respect for each of them and their privacy, I have realized I can only share my own woes now. To preface, I am acutely aware, given the ages of my boys, of how different it is to parent teenagers and toddlers. With a tween and a young boy in between them, I am frequently unsure what the most appropriate and effective method is. My stern and loud, "No!" still generally works, especially on the younger set, but I can already see its ridiculousness in more mature settings. Moreover, talks and instruction given by wise leaders about how our role as parents is not to control our children or their choices, but to teach them our values and morals so that they can succeed on the merits of their own decisions and subsequent consequences, ring true to me. It was how my parents raised me - a benefit and blessing to me but a feat and child rearing tactic that I fear is much, much more difficult to practice than I ever imagined. When this certain child made a mistake, owned up to it and patiently (and nervously) awaited my judgment, I prayed to handle this teaching opportunity wisely.

The easiest and most instinctive thing for me to do was to still shout, "No!" even after a few days. I knew I could use it with cause and regain some sense of control. I also knew this was the route my son expected me to go and maybe even was hoping for a bit. It's comfortable. Sadly, I fear I've used this technique too much over the years and it is what they are all used to. No sleepovers. No rated M games. No Sunday sports or birthday parties. If homework and piano practice aren't done, No TV or electronics. If messes aren't cleaned up, No...whatever (snack, friend, football game etc.). I am very good at No (and all those things will continue to get my "No"). But, almost immediately after asking for help to not make the situation worse, a talk given by an area authority from our last Stake Conference came to my mind and I remember him saying (paraphrased. I can't be sure as to his exact words because I am not a note taker), "You can parent military style and be an excellent general of your family, demanding perfect obedience to your rules, but when that child leaves your home and your rules are no longer the primary influence of their lives, will you have taught them to want to live the gospel or just to be obedient to you?"

This thought clamored around my head for days and I knew my go-to "No" wasn't the best option. I counseled with Jay who basically said he would support me in whatever I decided but also reminded me that, above all, we are in this parenting business to protect our children. I agree. So, it was really surprising, alarming even, when I felt strongly that the best thing to do was...nothing.

Not nothing as in not address it or act like nothing happened but to give him another chance to make a better choice next time. The acknowledgment of wrong and awareness of why was already there, provided by him, and I didn't want him to think that his courage to admit to a mistake went unnoticed by me. When I talked to him about my decision, he was surprised and I could tell that he was pleased, but what I really wanted him to know that, like Albus Dumbledore said, "It is our choices who make us who we are...far more than our abilities." I told him, ultimately, only he had control over his choices. Specifics would make this make so much more sense but I hope the generality is helpful to me in the future when I look back at this post.

You'd think an "ah-ha" moment like that would have quickly been applied to my own mistakes and choices but it took me until today to realize that I need to take my own advice (or, more accurately, several general authorities and Albus Dumbledore's). I know that I'm able. But, my choices are controlling and influencing my life much more than my abilities. I do the grocery shopping. I make the meals. I buy myself lunch (too often) and choose what to order from the menu. How much more control do I need? I wish it were easier, all of it, from my son's choices to my own. I wish both of us could make a good choice once and be done with it for forever but that's not how it works.  If I expect him to recommit to good choices daily, and I do (I told him so), then I need to expect the same thing from myself.

It's so interesting how we continue to learn all the time, isn't it? Somebody who is much smarter and kinder than me is clearly in control.  Thank goodness.