We sat in the parked car waiting for Daddy, everyone buckled-up in their respective seats and chattering happily over a trip out on a lovely, sunny day. I had my Mommy seat up front with Dad and waited in my own way. I took the empty time and filled it with my phone, checking different things and texting with a family member.
I sat hunched over the screen tapping away when a tiny hand reached into the front seat. Before I could ask my three year old when exactly she learned to unbuckle herself she passed me a wadded up gum wrapper. “Here Mommy. I sent you a text.” I collected the piece of trash and absently went to dispose of it in the compartment of my door (the place where garbage always seems to go). But my child interrupted me quickly by exclaiming, “Wait! You got to read it first!” As I unraveled the piece of gum paper she added, “It says I love you Mommy.” And I felt two feet tall.
My child had made a decision to speak to me in a way she knew I’d receive. Via text message; albeit an unusual delivery of such. She was simply following my lead.
It’s moments like this when I’m confronted by the fact that they are watching every single thing I do. Every. Single. Thing. I realize this when my 15 month old desires to do all the things I do. I watch while she mimics me. She digs in my make-up and tries to apply lipstick to her eyelids. She gets in the trash retrieving used Q-tips and tries to dig in her ear with them (why yes, I do have obsessively clean ear canals). She is addicted to brushing her teeth or anything else that can be done in the bathroom. As I get ready in the mornings I look over towards the bathtub and see her there transfixed, soaking in every action of my morning routine. She never tries to get in the cabinet under the kitchen sink where dangers lurk, but I do have to keep my make-up cabinet in the bathroom locked down like Fort Knox.
Sometimes my mini-mes are cute. It’s endearing. Other times, not so much. When I hear my three year old sigh in frustration, not so much. She recently told me after I messed something of hers up, “Gee Mom. Thanks a lot!” Realizing my child is becoming fluent in sarcasm is definitely eye-opening.
When you come to realize your life is a stage it changes the way you act. Your role becomes different. You begin trying to morph it into something worthy of being emulated. You begin to say things like “jiminy cricket” instead of “shit.” It takes a lot of practice, especially if you used to be a sailor like myself. But you do it because you have this cool new parenting gig and you want to do your best.
I always wanted to be like my mom when I was little, and that didn’t change much as I got older. My teenage angst told me I didn’t want to be like her, but I ended up going in the Navy as a Corpsman and becoming a RN just as she did before me. Sigh. That’s not a bad sigh. It’s just a confirmation of the daunting task before me, the job of being a good role model for my little charges.
It’s great that they’re watching when I’m able to teach them things like being polite and looking both ways before crossing the street. It’s wonderful to raise little ladies who will understand that less is more, that make-up can be used to accentuate, that a dab will do you. I can show them that modest dress is quite becoming, that showing too much skin is not where it’s at. Not at all. I can teach them that they are beautiful inside and out. I’ve got this all planned out you see.
But then I remember that they’re watching me. Am I being polite in the store when we’re rushed to get home? Did I just cut in line at the check-out? Surely not. Do I carry myself as a lady should? Is my choice of attire one I would want my own child wearing later on? Do I see myself as beautiful inside and out, or am I changing clothes twelve times before we leave because “I’m fat!”
Do they see me spending time with their father, quality time? You know they’re building their views of marriage by watching us together. Do they see us laugh and hold hands and do things for each other just because? I certainly hope so. I know they’re watching.
I can teach them about Jesus. I can take them to church. We can even listen to nothing but Christian music. And we do. And that’s all wonderful, a terrific start. But they’re also listening at lunch after church. They’re listening to my conversation with the other adults about that one particular church member, the odd one that’s hard to get along with. What do they hear me say?
When we leave the restaurant and I decide not to leave a tip, are they seeing that too? (FYI. I don’t do this!)
When our neighbor needs a ride, or help moving a couch, or is sick and in need of a meal, will they see me do these things or come up with excuses?
It’s not what I say that they hear; it’s what they see me do. We know this too well. We see it in their little mimicked actions, the cute things, and even the not-so-cute things. The little girl wearing her dad’s boots or the little girl pretend smoking a stick like a cigarette. We know, but do we realize the gravity?
We’re not just raising mini-me versions of ourselves. We are training up the next generation. We have the opportunity to develop disciples of Christ, little followers of Jesus who will grow into adults one day that could change the world.
If you’re a gossip then you’re raising a gossiper. If you’re an alcoholic, you’re raising a future alcoholic. If you’re a mean-spirited bully, then congratulations, you’re raising a bully. (Yep, I’m sarcastic and I’m raising a sarcastic child. I can’t decide if that’s good or bad.)
You get out of children what you put in. A child can change their stars, their future despite their past, but I can tell you from personal experience that is a hard road. It’s best to set a child up for success rather than failure. To do it any other way is simply selfish. To put it bluntly, if you are setting any example for your child other than a good one, then you are being selfish, and you are being a disservice to them.
I don’t think it’s too late. I see things in myself that I don’t see until my children imitate it. At that point it’s like a spotlight of my errors and the devil would tell me “what’s done is done.” But I believe positive change is always good, never too late, and can only do great things for everyone. Great things for the kingdom.
Every time I look at them I try to remember the importance of the job before me, the humongous undertaking God has given me having placed these children in my hands to raise for His kingdom. I have no idea what plans He may have for them. How dare I thwart that!
I am given innocent children when they enter this world, with minds like a blank canvas. What is painted upon it is up to me. You may say “but this corrupt world will skew their view!” Perhaps. But I think they have a better chance in life if I build their little foundations on Jesus, with Godly principles. They will not be easily shaken that way.
I can’t predict their future. I also cannot decide it for them. That will be up to them. But I can do my best to lead by example and plant the seeds of a successful life within them. They’re not mini-mes. They are mini-disciples. And I’m their teacher.