postcards for parents

greetings!

Haven't been in your inbox for a while, because for once in my life, 
I haven't had much to say!  No, that's not true.  I've just been 
parceling it out bit by bit to my clients every day instead of 
to all of you at once in the postcards.  But the Universe, 
in its infinite grace and wisdom, today delivered a nice big topic 
right to my door.  Or rather, I should say, right to my window.

So I was sitting in my office surfing the web, I mean, working, 
when a voice on the street in front of my house attracted my attention.  
Being the nosy and ever vigilant I-work-from-home-so-I-know-everything-
that-happens-around-here sort of busybody, I jumped right to the window 
to preserve my know-it-all status.

What met me there made my heart sink.  Two boys, from the size of 
them probably in 9th or 10th grade, were sitting on their bikes 
in the middle of the street talking to a woman in a red minivan.

At first I thought, oh, how sweet, they are giving her directions!  
And then her voice rang out strong and clear.  She pointed her finger 
at the taller one.  (ever notice how uncomfortable it is to be pointed 
at?  It's like the finger is a ray gun, and directs all that icky stuff 
right at you in a powerful stream.)  

Anyway, up into my window comes her voice.  AND YOU!  YOU GET YOURSELF 
HOME RIGHT THIS MINUTE AND CLEAN UP THAT ROOM!!  IT'S A PIGSTY, 
YOU LAZY A--.

And then she sped away.  He called out MOM! and tapped on the 
side window of the van as it left, but she kept on going.

Sheepishly, with hunched shoulders and downcast eyes, he and his buddy 
turned their bikes towards home.  I felt so keenly his embarrassment 
at being humiliated in front of his friend.  I couldn't hear what else 
he said, but I did hear him repeat the words that broke my heart, 
and surprisingly, not with anger in his voice, but with sadness.  

Lazy a--.

Now, I don't know what kind of day she just had.  Maybe her boss called 
her names.  Maybe the baby is sick and she's worried.  And as little 
as a few months ago, I would have been much more compassionate about 
trying to figure out how much pain must be inside a person to lead 
them to do something so nasty.

But lately, my take on life's been getting real simple.  It doesn't 
matter what kind of day she had.  Nothing can possibly justify the way 
she just spoke to her child.    

We all have bad days.  We all experience pain, and at times revert to 
repeating unconscious behaviors.  That's part of being human.  
But there's more available to us in our human packages.  There are 
things we can do, decisions we can make, standards we can set for 
our own behavior.  

And I propose that one of those standards for parents should be 
that under no circumstances will we allow ourselves to degrade 
and belittle our children by calling them names.

I want to leave the legacy of clear and effective communication 
to the next generation.  I want them to inherit a world where people 
have the skills to communicate their feelings and needs, and 
make requests, without belittling others.  If they can't inherit 
that world, then I at least hope they can inherit the tools and 
wisdom to create it.

And I'm so disappointed to be reminded that all over the country, 
children tonight will be told in no uncertain terms who they are.  
Lazy, stupid, cruel, insensitive, incapable.  The list goes on and on.

Here's my proposal.  (yeah, I know, I'm preaching to the choir.  
But you guys are here in front of me.  I hope you take this message 
and spread it in your own way out into the world.)

Let's take a collective vow not to pass this toxic garbage on to 
our kids.  If you have a bad day, that's a real shame, and I'm sorry.  
Let it die out with you.  Don't dump it on your spouse or your kids 
or your dog.  Clear it out of your body with physical activity, 
writing, screaming, or venting to a willing listener, not just 
whoever is unfortunate enough to get in your way.

If you cannot resist the temptation to tell your child who he is, 
then please, tell him good things!  This will require a Herculean effort 
to pause before speaking and check your intention.  Is what you are 
about to say meant to uplift your child?  Good.  Go for it.  
Is it meant to control, manipulate, or purge your anger?  Zip your lip.  
Go away.  Don't say it.

Simple, but not easy.  And no single effort will pay off more in 
your relationship with your child.  Or others of significance in 
your life, for that matter.

Need more convincing?  How much longer will that lanky teenage boy 
tolerate that kind of treatment from his mother?  When will he 
her garbage to her?  Want to bet he's counting the days until he's 
old enough to move away from her and not look back?  And how will 
he treat her if someday she's dependent upon him for eldercare?

It's said that how you do one thing is how you do everything.  
So how you talk to your child might be how you are talking to 
yourself, your coworkers, and your spouse.  You all deserve better.  
Stop.  Separate the behavior from the person.  State your needs and 
make a request for a change.  Take appropriate action, which is 
always about you, and never about them.

I can't find that woman out there and tell her what is happening to 
her relationship with her precious child.  Even if I could, there's 
no guarantee that this information would lead to a change in her 
behavior or choices.  All I can do is tell you about this, and 
hope that both you and I can use this bird's eye view to strengthen 
our resolve to be the kind of parents who know and do better than that.

And so, I have.

-karen