Something has changed from my generation when it comes to raising children with respect. Back in the 70’s, 80’s, and definitely way before my time, our parents weren’t our friends. We had friends our own age–friends we played with outside, with whom we could cop attitudes, unfriend (back when “unfriending” was kicking out of the neighborhood hide-and-go-seek), and tell secrets to when our parents weren’t within earshot.
Nowadays, parents have become their kids’ friends. Kids don’t play outside with other kids the way they used to, so the parents have assumed the role of entertainer. With that role comes a camaraderie that I don’t think we had with our parents during my Generation X era. We were friendly with our parents, of course, but we knew our boundaries. And with those boundaries came respect. Parents demanded our respect. And if we didn’t, we were liable to get our butts whooped.
It’s not like that anymore. And I see the evidence of it in my kids.
My three sons laugh with me, joke around with me, pull me into games of UNO before bed in their room, and, while they can entertain themselves, often think that of me as the 4th member of their group. UNO isn’t as fun if Mommy isn’t playing.
While I’m not completely “one of the group,” because they hold me to the esteem of friend, they feel they can speak to me any way they choose, as if I am their equal–a friend they can shake off whenever they’re not in the mood for conversation, they’re annoyed, or whatever the situation is.
Today was the straw that broke the camel’s back.
Waking this morning and going down to the kitchen, I lovingly reached for Kojo (age 6) to touch his shoulder and chest as he stood in the kitchen. In response, he turned his head and yelled, “Get OFF of me!!”
As if I were a friend to be reckoned with, someone who could bear the brunt of his morning crankiness, and not the woman who birthed him for umpteen hours.
This was moments after Ohene scoffed when I offered him a bite of the peanut butter protein bar that I had in my hand. He responded with, “Nooo! I don’t LIKE those!” with the attitude of a pre-pubescent teen well beyond his 8 years instead of “No thank you, I don’t like peanut butter protein bars.”
The anger in me boiled over, causing me to verbally lash out.
“How dare you speak to your mother this way! Hell no I’m not taking you guys out for school clothes and new shoes today!”
I stormed upstairs, vowing to stay home today and let them think about how they speak to me instead of taking them to buy new shoes. They seemed uncaring about not getting to go buy new shoes as if it wasn’t even at the top of their Sunday priority list. Ohene, in fact, later turned it around and said he didn’t even want new shoes because his current green sneakers were just fine.
Kojo simply came to my room asking to use my iPad, and when I said no, he pouted, “You just want a new son!” No, not it at all; I just want the one that I have to be more respectful.
I felt a little conflicted about my decisions. Kojo’s sneakers, after all, do look the worse out of their shoes. The shoes are peeling at the soles and will need to be replaced soon. But I couldn’t bring myself to allow them to talk to me this way, even if it means making them start school with their old stuff. They needed to be taught a lesson: I don’t have to spend my money on you; spending money on you is a privilege.
There is officially one more day until school starts. Tomorrow is Labor Day and we’re going to work on a DIY project together for a sponsored project. I’ve considered going tomorrow after the project is over to get them shoes. But part of me knows an acceptable amount of time needs to lapse before we go traversing to the mall. They need to feel the pain of the decisions– wants them to wait. And honestly–I don’t think they’ll even notice.
Serena
Leave a Reply