Read an Excerpt
The Low-Pressure Guide to Parenting Your Preschooler
By Tim Sanford, Liz Duckworth Tyndale House Publishers, Inc.
Copyright © 2016 Tim Sanford
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-58997-867-6
CHAPTER 1
DO YOU HAVE TO MAKE THEM TURN OUT RIGHT?
Craig is part of the millennial generation, married and well educated. He wants to make a difference for Jesus Christ in the business world. Several years ago, he joined a small computer applications design firm comprised of five very talented individuals. But none of them — including the firm's founder — had any business management expertise.
Craig's frustration usually would come out in a loud, long sigh while we were cleaning our mountain bikes after a good ride. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do and what belongs to the other guys," he told me one day. "There are no job descriptions for any of us. We spend too much time checking things out with each other to make sure nobody is stepping on someone else's toes. We lose hours of work time that could be spent designing more applications! Our boss seems content to 'shoot from the hip.' I mean, that's okay if you want to stay small, but we have the potential to go really big."
Month after month Craig would hold out hope, asking for a job description. Month after month he was told, "Oh, we'll get to that. But for now, we have this really great job opportunity. As soon as I get them to sign the contract, we'll look into getting some job descriptions written up."
After about a year and a half of directionless frustration, Craig left the company. He and a coworker launched their own business. He told me, "The first thing I'm going to do is sit down and write out job descriptions!"
Ever have a job like Craig's, with no clear job description? It doesn't work, does it?
What's Your Job?
The business world uses job descriptions. So does the military. Even athletes have detailed job descriptions of what they're to do as part of the team.
Maybe you've composed a job description or two without realizing it. Perhaps you've given your babysitter one before going out to dinner with your spouse. It might look something like what Stacey, a mother of three, provides to her sitters:
"We have everything written out very clearly about our expectations:
• Follow established bedtimes, plus or minus thirty minutes.
• Please have our children clean up any messes that they make.
• If the kids aren't getting along well, have them each do 'alone playtime' in their bedrooms for a specific amount of time.
• Please have them change into pajamas, brush teeth, read a story, and pray with them. A small light and music may be on.
• They are never allowed to watch TV — not an option.
"Emergency information and phone numbers are listed as well. We always try to give a designated time we plan to be home by and then try to determine if the sitter is okay with that and whether he or she can be flexible. Seeing those specific instructions creates order and predictability in our home, and that's why I think sitters like watching our kids."
If business people, military, athletes, and even babysitters benefit from having job descriptions, doesn't it make sense for parents, too?
Yes, it does.
So where does the confusion and pressure of our endless to-do lists come from? You'll begin to see the answer if you ask ten people to describe the job of a dad or mom. You'll get fourteen different opinions. That's because the titles "Dad" and "Mom" have become vague, contradictory, and controversial. Often they're based solely on personal opinions or reactions to negative experiences. None of these things makes parenting more understandable or doable.
Since we tend to learn so much through contrasts, let me begin by addressing things that don't belong on your job description. Understanding what your job is not is as crucial as understanding what it is. It also helps relieve the pressure you may feel because of unrealistic or muddled expectations. We'll get to the do list in chapter 2.
Your First Impossible Mission
Naomi is the mom of a toddler who'd be classified as "all boy" — very kinesthetic, with the need to move and do.
"My son, Nathan, won't use words," she told me over the phone. "He prefers to communicate using sounds — machine sounds, animal sounds — you name it, any kind of sound. (Note: Communicating with sounds in place of words is a common trait for people whose primary learning style is kinesthetic, where learning takes place by carrying out physical activities.) We tested him, and he doesn't have any speech problems. How do I make him talk? I'm worried if he doesn't learn to stop using noises, he'll never get a girlfriend."
Did I mention that Nathan is only a toddler?
Behind Naomi's anxiety over a girlfriend is her desire to raise her only child "just right," so he'll grow up "just right" and find "just the right" girlfriend, who will become "just the right" wife for Nathan — all so Naomi will be happy having grandchildren to focus her time on, and all will be "just right."
Naomi doesn't have a dysfunctional child. She's a Christian mom who wants grandkids someday. She also wants to make sure her only child turns out right in order to be a good witness to her unbelieving family. Naomi was putting tons of pressure on herself and on Nathan as well — unnecessary and extremely burdensome demands.
Naomi's not alone. In fact, the single most common responsibility written into parental job descriptions is this:
"IT'S YOUR JOB TO MAKE SURE YOUR CHILD TURNS OUT RIGHT!"
Can you feel it? Pressure, pressure, pressure!
No, no, no. Even if that responsibility were accurate, everyone has his or her own interpretation of what "turning out right" looks like.
Do a reality check with me here. The first human home was the Garden of Eden. It was perfect. This perfect home was run by a perfect parent figure — God. In this perfect home with a perfect Parent were two perfectly created children — Adam and Eve. So far, so good.
In this perfect environment there was a rule: "You must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, for when you eat of it you will surely die" (Genesis 2:17). That's as clear a rule as any parent can state.
You know the rest of the story. Adam and Eve chose to disobey God; they foolishly defied Him and ate the forbidden fruit. You and I live with the effects of that wrong choice to this day. We get old and die. Bad things happen all around us and to us. All of these things are sober reminders of that first wrong choice — made by a perfectly created person in a perfect world with a perfect Father.
So what did God do wrong? If He had brought Adam and Eve up "in the way [they] should go" (Proverbs 22:6), why didn't His children choose the right path? If it's the parent's job to make sure children "turn out right" (whatever that is) and God is the parent figure in this home, wasn't it His fault that His children did not "turn out right"?
If Proverbs 22:6 is a guarantee for all parents, why wasn't it a guarantee for the Author of the Book?
You aren't willing to say it was God's fault, are you?
You're exactly right, because it wasn't God's fault. And since it wasn't His fault as the parental figure, it's not your fault when your child makes an unwise choice, either. Let this settle in for a moment.
"But I want my child to turn out right," you say.
Of course. But that doesn't mean ensuring your child "turns out right" belongs on your job description.
"But —"
I hear you. That's your prayer, hope, desire as a parent. Yes, and you would do anything for your child. It's still not your job. Attempting to ensure that your child turns out right, or attaching your sense of competence as a parent to that goal, is where things go awry. It's not listed on an accurate job description for a mom or a dad.
So trash the notion that it's your job to make your preschooler turn out right. Doing so is the beginning of low-pressure parenting.
Your Second Impossible Mission
The second big responsibility that often sneaks into our job descriptions as parents is this:
"IT'S YOUR JOB TO MAKE SURE YOU DO EVERYTHING RIGHT (PERFECTLY)."
Ooh. Even more pressure. Feel the stress?
You don't need to. God is perfect; you and I aren't. The good news is perfection is not on our job description. It's not required that you do everything correctly, know exactly what to do in every circumstance, or never make a mistake. That task is not on the do list.
"But I want to parent correctly!" you insist.
Great. But that's not part of your job description. God is not looking down from heaven with a clipboard in hand, evaluating your every move to see if you're perfect. Why? Because He already knows we're not perfect (and fully accepts us anyway).
Even if you are perfect in your parenting (as God was in the Garden of Eden), your child may still choose foolish things (as Adam and Eve did). On the other hand, you may struggle in your parenting through every stage of your child's development and he may still end up making wise, godly choices.
Que sera, sera.
In the Latin culture, where I spent my early years growing up as a missionary's kid, there was a philosophy regarding life and circumstances that was summed up in the phrase "Que sera, sera" — "What will be, will be." The deep influences of that culture help me see the truth in the following example.
As a concerned and competent parent with a young child's birthday party on the calendar:
1. You can be the best party planner on the block (doing it right).
2. You can put together the best birthday party a three-year-old has ever been to (doing the right thing again).
3. You can purchase the highest-quality party favors and gifts, and the healthiest snacks money can buy (doing it right and having everything under control).
4. But if a snowstorm hits town, the power goes out, and everyone invited is homebound with two feet of snow piled in front of their garage doors, then your daughter's "best birthday party in the world" is canceled. Or the day before the big party, the birthday girl's older brother tests positive for strep throat and you have to disinvite everybody.
Que sera, sera.
You were wise and responsible. You did everything correctly. You controlled all the things that were yours to control. You are absolutely the best party planner on the block, no questions asked. Yet you still can't make sure the weather cooperates or your child stays free from strep throat — or that circumstances or children "turn out right." There is no guarantee, even though you did everything perfectly. It's not in your job description.
So scrap the notion that it's your job to do everything "right." Remember, we're talking about low-pressure parenting. Jesus was right in John 8:32 when He told us, "Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free." He was talking about His identity as God's Son, yet His statement is no less true for the rest of life. Knowing and understanding the truth — grasping reality — is what sets you free from the inaccurate expectations on your parental job description.
Our culture overemphasizes success — even in parenting. In an attempt to ensure your child will turn out right, you can be lured into grabbing control over the wrong things.
Most of us don't want to be control freaks, just "in control" enough to ensure our kids turn out to be responsible citizens and follow God with all their hearts. We think that if we control, we can make things turn out the way we want. We can be happy and avoid pain or displeasure.
Sounds good to me! you might think.
If only that were true.
You may not recognize it at first, because it seems like you can control your preschooler. Yes, it truly seems like you can — sometimes.
Remember When
Think about all the things you used to control when your child was an infant. You could schedule and regulate bedtime and bath time. You decided the type of food offered — though your baby ultimately decided what stayed in his mouth!
It's easy to think (a) you can control your child, and (b) controlling him actually is your job. With infants this works — mostly because they're too small to exert much active outright rebellion. Control-driven conflicts in parent-child relationships seem nonexistent — until your infant begins toddling. Then conflicts can become endless, and — if you follow a faulty job description — the pressure of parenting will really escalate.
But who has the final say about most of these life choices? Here's where things get confusing. As a parent you think, Well, it's me, of course. Im the parent and I'm the boss. The kicker, though, is that while you are the boss, ultimately it's your toddler who has the final say-so. Not so much with words, mind you, but with her behavior.
As she grows, so does her ability to exert her independence. Independence she uses to obey or disobey. Conflicts over the child's choice versus the parents' choice build and often become fully evident when age two arrives, if not before.
If you're like me, you're a concerned, loving parent desperate for your kids to turn out right, and you're willing to do whatever you can to make that happen.
Good for you. But you may be tricked into thinking the way to do that is by controlling your child. It's not. There's a huge difference between controlling your child's environment and attempting to control her. That's where this book comes in.
Your own expectations, the advice of others (expert or otherwise), and comparison with other families — all these factors put pressure on you and allow control issues to surface. The result — the kinds of struggles we'll be addressing realistically in the following pages.
A woman I'll call Jennifer would have benefited from understanding the concept of control. She had two daughters and one son, all about the same age as our two girls. As we got to know Jennifer, it became obvious that she was driven, talented, and success minded. It was also clear that she was determined to make sure her girls achieved great things. An elite swimmer in her youth, Jennifer never realized her dream of competing in the Olympics. She also got pregnant before her wedding and longed to redeem herself in the Christian community's eyes for her "one failure."
From the time her girls were preschoolers Jennifer pushed them, vowing that one was going to be the family Olympic swimmer (at any cost). The other was to be a sports physician for a professional sports team. That was just the way it was going to be. It didn't matter what either girl wanted.
"Besides," Jennifer told us, "they're too young and immature to know what's good for them."
The "future doctor" told my daughter, "I don't like it! Mommy doesn't even listen to what I want." This came from a preschooler. It's amazing how much kids pick up at a very young age.
As for her sister, the "future Olympian" turned all the pressure inward and had countless medical complications all through her childhood years. Doctors blamed stress, which Jennifer vehemently denied. Because of her My girls have to turn out right and I have to do everything right thinking, she wounded her daughters deeply their entire childhood.
Her girls are adults now. There is no Olympic swimmer in the family. There is no medical doctor, either. Mom didn't get either of the "successes" she pushed so relentlessly for. Last I heard, Jennifer's relationship with her now-adult daughters is strained at best.
Sad.
How You Think About Parenting
What do you assume a parent's job should be? Do you feel pressure to be the perfect parent or make sure your child "turns out right"? Do you feel the pressure not to parent the way you were parented?
To understand your assumptions, it helps to understand what you've been telling yourself. Your present thinking patterns grew out of your life experiences. And those experiences affected your thinking and decision making long before you ever thought of becoming a parent.
Your brain is complex. So to keep things simple, let's compare your brain to a jukebox. (I know, jukeboxes have been replaced by smart phones and streaming music, but today they're vintage and coming back into vogue.) An old-fashioned jukebox holds a wide variety of vinyl records, so imagine that each "record" in your brain's "jukebox" contains a brief phrase known as a belief.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from The Low-Pressure Guide to Parenting Your Preschooler by Tim Sanford, Liz Duckworth. Copyright © 2016 Tim Sanford. Excerpted by permission of Tyndale House Publishers, Inc..
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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