Wow. I had an eye-opening mommy moment this morning, and I'm still shaking a little just talking about it. I had to be mean. Not a little mean. Not "mean" with quotation marks. Actually mean -- and although I'm still trying to calm myself down, I am at least mostly happy with the end result.
I asked my two boys to clean up the family room so that I could vacuum. If you know my boys, you know the groans, whines, and excuses that followed. I started to help. We sorted squinkies, Star Wars figures, stuffed toys, Legos... we had it all ready to put away. So I told them, "Okay guys. I'm going upstairs to work on the bathroom mirror -- (a huge mess I made myself decorating for a Halloween party) -- you two finish putting away these toys. I need the floor ready to vacuum." I was again met with groans, so I added, "Any toys still on the floor will just get thrown away." They both gasped and started picking up.
I went upstairs. I scrubbed my upstairs bathroom, yelling down the stairs every few minutes, "How's it going?" or "Did you get that floor clean?" Each time, I could hear them playing, and each time they responded with, "We're doing it!"
After 20 minutes of cleaning my bathroom, and another ten of "giving them extra time" while I picked up laundry, I went downstairs.
The Lego box was on the shelf. Everything else was right where it had been when I left. I sighed. They were both on the couch. "Well, I guess the rest is going in the trash then," I threatened.
At this point, I feel it necessary to mention that a few other moms and myself had decided that this inspired our kids to pick up the things they want to keep. Many of them, upon seeing their toys "thrown away" quickly offered to put them away and learned a nice lesson. I wanted to try it, hoping it would have the same impact. I had done it before when they were smaller, but I think the threat no longer stuck.
So I got out a trash bag. I started scooping up toys. I had every intention of either stopping half way though and letting them put them away or giving back the bag of toys at a later date.
My oldest jumped up. "What are you doing!?" he shouted. I told him I was throwing away the toys, just like I had said several times. I told him that this was the consequence of his actions. I felt like a good parent.
Then he screamed. He screamed like I was cutting off his leg. My youngest jumped off the couch and followed suit. My oldest tried to pull the bag out of my hands. At this point, I realized how important my follow-through would be. I kept going, my heart racing in my chest while my boys screamed, stomped, and cried in horror. I picked up every toy on the floor and put them in the bag. My oldest actually went as far as to grab me by the arm and try to pull me away. I realized I had to throw them away. Actually throw them away.
What had I done to my kids to make them think that these objects on the floor were this important? Why did they think that losing these things was the worst thing that could ever happen? I stopped my oldest mid-scream, tears running down his face. I told him again that he made this choice. I told them both. I told them that no object, no "thing" was worth screaming at your mother, grabbing her like that -- I told them to go upstairs so I could finish.
And when I was alone, finishing scooping up the last toy, I realized this had to go much farther than a threat. This needed to be real. They needed to realize that they would lose things -- that what they though was important started to vanish when they chose to be defiant or chose themselves above anyone else.
I cried. I had hurt them deeply, but I was mostly crying because I had made them that way. And it was my job to make sure they knew what it meant and that there was a lesson here. I took the bag out to the garage, then I went to their room to talk.
We have new rules now. We will clean up the family room every evening, and they are allowed to bring any toy they wish from their room, as long as it goes back to its place at night, or it will disappear. They agreed this was fair, and would give them more clean space to play and more respect for their things. I told them that every action has a consequence. That if we chose not to feed the dog, he would die. Or if we chose not to clean our house, we would get sick from all the germs. I told them we need to work together to take care of our house and our things, and that that is what families do. And most of all. I told them that no object is so important that it is worth hurting a person. This turned into a bigger lesson than I ever planned to teach.
I hate the thought of donating that whole bag of toys that I picked up this morning. But I can't let the value of the things get to me either. They are not more important than my boys and helping them grow up to be responsible adults.
But I'm still shaking. I think we all learned a lot today....
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