Well, okay, I don’t mean it literally. You see, I am the rock. Or at least I’m supposed to be a rock, according to a parenting book I read not too long ago (okay, apparently it was back in June of last year, but it feels like not long ago). It talked about how our job as parents is to be grounded, stable, to be that safe, unmovable place for our kids. And, as hard as it is, keep our emotions out of it when our kids are being disrespectful, or having a meltdown, or are being downright unreasonable. What, your kids never behave that way?
So Big J and I will often look at each other in the midst of the chaos and say, “I am a rock.” It’s a little thing, but sometimes it actually helps keep my emotions from spiraling right along with Little J’s and Little E’s.
As for the marathon, Big J and I were recently doing some of our required foster parent training. And the speaker commented a few times how parenting a foster child (or any child, for that matter) is a marathon, not a sprint. Parenting is for the long haul, and you have to pace yourself. (There was even a PACE acronym in the training, and if you want to know what it is, email me and I’ll send you the link for the free training seminar.)
I’ve never trained for a marathon, and definitely haven’t run one. But I can imagine the points where you want to give up, or feel like you can’t possibly go any farther, put in any more effort. And there are days when parenting feels that way.
So last night, in the middle of a meltdown (I won’t tell you whose), I looked across the room at Big J and said out loud, “I am a rock running a marathon.” The kids looked at me funny, not understanding my comment. But that’s okay. There are things we don’t have to explain to them. And if a simple phrase can help me put things in perspective and bring down the temperature in the room, then I call that a good thing.
grace for each moment, one moment at a time