Reflections on Discipline
Sometimes I dig deep into my memory box to find an answer on how to handle kids. When some of my friends who have no child yet say how rewarding it is to become a mother, I give them an awkward smile and say "Yeah!" I wanted to say a lot more than that but I know it's going to be a long conversation and there would be endless questions and arguments so I just give a nod and that uneasy smile.
Motherhood, as we all know it, doesn't mean carrying a child for just 9 months. It's about nurturing someone until, well I guess, your very last breath. I admit that being a mother has its perks too. There are moments that makes my heart swell with gladness and wish I could just put it in a capsule and keep forever. But there are also bad days.
I often read things on age-appropriate ways of handling kids. A toddler can't understand as much as a preschooler does. But these guidelines don't apply to all children. Every child is unique. There was a time I lost my temper and hit my eldest. And though I felt like my heart is about to explode with all the mixed emotions I was having at that moment, I melted when I saw her how frightened she was of me. I didn't gain respect. Instead I traumatized my own child. I distanced myself from her and searched through the internet about hitting your own child. I came across an article (which I forgot to save! tsk!) that really made me feel so guilty. It said that before hitting or shaming your own child, think first! And I've read and heard this a lot of times already but what came next to it in this article is a new realization for me. I wish I could just quote it but I'll just post here what I remember from that article. It said that we should think like the child, small and helpless. All their life depends on you, the parent. Their food, shelter, all of their needs come from you. And it's so unfair to put them on shame or hit them just because they couldn't follow your instructions or wouldn't obey you. Just imagine that you're towering over them, you're physically stronger than them and obviously you know better (or so we think) than them because you've been there. So before hurting them, think first.
So I ran to my childhood memories and think of all of the days when my own mother would discipline me. There was a time when I failed one exam in one subject and my mother spanked me. It stuck on me that on my next exam for that subject, I almost perfected it. I thought, since it worked on me, it might work with my kids. But I just find myself becoming more frustrated in instilling what I wanted to teach my children. Kids just love to scatter their toys everywhere, run wildly around the house, scream-laugh almost all day, and then demand some food or some drink or some hug. You might get a happy picture from this. Yes, it's fun to see them being their own kid-self. But all these fun times also leave messy house and hungry little hippos. I always dream of putting order in our house, eating on time, keeping the toys in their boxes after being used, and sweeping the floor every once in a while. Sometimes it's overwhelming - wearing the many hats of a mother. But I keep reminding myself of the article I read. I try to find a short quiet time for myself, even for just a second or two, and try to say a short prayer, then I put a my game-face on.
Motherhood, as we all know it, doesn't mean carrying a child for just 9 months. It's about nurturing someone until, well I guess, your very last breath. I admit that being a mother has its perks too. There are moments that makes my heart swell with gladness and wish I could just put it in a capsule and keep forever. But there are also bad days.
I often read things on age-appropriate ways of handling kids. A toddler can't understand as much as a preschooler does. But these guidelines don't apply to all children. Every child is unique. There was a time I lost my temper and hit my eldest. And though I felt like my heart is about to explode with all the mixed emotions I was having at that moment, I melted when I saw her how frightened she was of me. I didn't gain respect. Instead I traumatized my own child. I distanced myself from her and searched through the internet about hitting your own child. I came across an article (which I forgot to save! tsk!) that really made me feel so guilty. It said that before hitting or shaming your own child, think first! And I've read and heard this a lot of times already but what came next to it in this article is a new realization for me. I wish I could just quote it but I'll just post here what I remember from that article. It said that we should think like the child, small and helpless. All their life depends on you, the parent. Their food, shelter, all of their needs come from you. And it's so unfair to put them on shame or hit them just because they couldn't follow your instructions or wouldn't obey you. Just imagine that you're towering over them, you're physically stronger than them and obviously you know better (or so we think) than them because you've been there. So before hurting them, think first.
So I ran to my childhood memories and think of all of the days when my own mother would discipline me. There was a time when I failed one exam in one subject and my mother spanked me. It stuck on me that on my next exam for that subject, I almost perfected it. I thought, since it worked on me, it might work with my kids. But I just find myself becoming more frustrated in instilling what I wanted to teach my children. Kids just love to scatter their toys everywhere, run wildly around the house, scream-laugh almost all day, and then demand some food or some drink or some hug. You might get a happy picture from this. Yes, it's fun to see them being their own kid-self. But all these fun times also leave messy house and hungry little hippos. I always dream of putting order in our house, eating on time, keeping the toys in their boxes after being used, and sweeping the floor every once in a while. Sometimes it's overwhelming - wearing the many hats of a mother. But I keep reminding myself of the article I read. I try to find a short quiet time for myself, even for just a second or two, and try to say a short prayer, then I put a my game-face on.
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