Slipping through my fingers

I think that too many times, we parents parent with the end game in mind. As in, "Please don't let my child grow up and still wear his Superman shorts pulled up to his chest." Or more seriously, "What will my child do with his life? How will he turn out?"

I really struggle with that. Being in the moment is something that I often have to force myself to do. If you have read many of my posts I think my impatience is a common theme. Ha.

The danger with parenting the end game is that you can miss the beauty of the here and now. Any enjoyment can be soured by worry or conjecture.

There was a video flying around the adoption circles a few weeks back and it related to RAD (reactive attachment disorder). I watched about half of it and turned it off. Honestly, the guy's voice grated on me, to say nothing of the content. I should know better than to put things like that into my head. My head, specifically, because I think for some people it is a validation and a comfort to have an idea of what is going on in their child's mind, but for me it just makes me a hypochondriac, not for myself, but for my kid; watching every symptom, giving a WebMD worthy diagnoses. Instead of just being in the moment and dealing with the behaviors as they come.

Years ago I worked in a hospital here in town. I had a trainer with me for six weeks and he would coach me through everything. He was a great guy and we had great philosophical discussions while we walked down long, fluorescent lit hallways. One of the things I struggled with in training was wanting people to like me. Let's face it, if someone's learning to draw blood on your arm, it isn't abnormal to not like them. But someone not liking me could wreck my entire day. It didn't matter that they knew nothing about me to form an opinion except for the fact that I woke them up at 4 a.m. to draw vials of blood, it would wreck me. Once I verbalized my fear about someone not liking me and the trainer responded "Why do you even care?"

Why? I know it isn't logical to let someone else's opinion (especially someone who barely knows you) impact your feelings about yourself or others, but, in true Type A, first-born fashion I want people to like me. To praise me.

This extends to I want people to like my children. To praise my children.

And when they don't? I obsess.

It is a problem, I know.

I think that bringing Daniel into our home has made me have to deal with this more head-on than I have had to in the past. Because some people aren't very positive about things. Some people hear that he was adopted at the age of eight from an Eastern European orphanage and their opinions are set in stone.

I literally had someone tell me that Daniel needed to learn that actions have consequences. Example: Do a bad thing = do extra chores AND people don't like you. I totally agree that is something that children need to learn. Then she went on to paint a very bleak, institutionalized future for him if I didn't pound that concept into him.

Why would someone who had extremely limited contact with him even say something like that to me? Does she think we aren't teaching him things?

Do I give a rip what she thinks?

I can envision many possible futures for all my children. I pray that they love God, that they pick faithful, Godly spouses and have nice families of their own someday and that at the end of their lives they are surrounded by people who love them, who will care for them and honor them.

But right now? I want to be in the moment and enjoy the daily wonders of having my children. They really do grow too quickly. Grace will be in middle school next year. Slipping through my fingers, for sure. This is my declaration that I won't worry about those things because they will come soon enough, but these little, precious people will grow up too quick and this time will be gone and I don't want to look back on it and think that I spoke anything but victory into their futures.