Several times recently I have seen something that reminds me of my childhood. A post on Facebook about children going grocery shopping in costumes, a picture of me when I was younger, or even something someone said. All of these things add up to me thinking about what is important, and what is not, for a child.
For example, I was in a short online conversation about children in costumes in the store. The person was encouraging to moms who let their children dress up in public. Mine do that all the time, and I know the comments that we get are a mix between good and bad. I say thank you to the good and ignore the bad, but my children hear both and are a bit confused. This makes me think of my own childhood because I was never discouraged from figuring out who I am, be it a superhero, a costume, huge hair, purple hair, or odd clothing. I tried it all, and my mother took it with a grain of salt. I had different colors and lengths of hair in addition to crazy hair styles. She just would say "Hair grows back." I would dress in outfits that were more like costumes. I could go goth, punk, cowgirl, grunge, and girl next door all in the same week. She would pay no attention. I finally settled on a style that fit me, and was comfortable because I knew all the others were not me. I was not only trying to be shocking, as most teens try at some point, but I was figuring out who I was, where I fit, and what was me. Oh, there was a bit of an attempt at shocking, but that was a bonus side effect, which mostly bothered my father.
Living with four brothers means that a fair amount of things got broken, thrown around, blown up, or destroyed. If done intentionally, like strapping my favorite Barbie to a firecracker, there was discipline. But accidents were part of life and never a big deal. I can not count how many times I have heard "Things are not important, people are important," from my mother, from myself, and now echoed by grandchildren. Spilled drinks, broken dishes, broken windows, ruined clothing, and even a bottle of bluing dumped into the all of the laundry have all been responded to with the phrase. That does not mean that it was a free pass, you mess it, you clean it, but it was not a big deal.
Picky eaters were never admonished for eating only PB and J for weeks on end, but were encouraged to try something else. When that phase was over, it was over. The same went for clothing, hair styles, and even odd behaviors. Phases were treated like a phase that would pass, not a line to be drawn in the sand. It made it less likely for me to dig in my heels over something small because it was not a big deal, like purple hair. If there is no reaction, there was no fun in it. And as a phase was over, there was no comment. It just was over.
All of these things are the small stuff. Because we were given freedom in these areas, we became more likely to seek advice, or at least listen to advice, in the bigger areas. Areas that could impact our future, like friends, class choices, dating, driving, jobs, and life decisions. I am not saying I always followed the advice, but I heard it. And I knew that I could go to my mother even when heartbroken after not following her advice.
I have followed this style of parenting in my own home. I say no only when yes is not an option. We blow bubbles in the kitchen. We finger paint in the dining room. We have a bin of rice that we bury toys in to find later. We have a trampoline in the school room and a power wheels in the hallway. Because it will make a mess is not a reason to say no. There are limits and times for these activities, but they do happen often. My children have all heard me say things like "Hair grows back", "Don't cry over spilt milk", and "Things are not important, people are." We try not to sweat the small stuff, and handle the big stuff as it comes.
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