We started with Luke's room. Luke and I had already discussed color, and much like any choice we make with him, he was easy. Now, I've discussed how parenting Luke is not always easy, but making these kinds of choices with him is always easy. He and I had picked out some navy blue paint chips, and he told me which one he liked, so like I said, the process should have been easy, except it wasn't. You see, as much as I like to think of myself as a "free-range parent" I'm really more of a psychotic control freak. I had a blue in mind, and when Luke chose between the two blue paint chips we'd narrowed down, I was convinced he picked the wrong one. I went with my first instinct, and immediately began to talk him out of it. Well, that one is nice, but don't you think this one will go better with your window coverings? He, being easy about these things, said, Sure. Then I started to feel bad. I hate this parenting quality I have, and I know it results in my children questioning themselves. I've seen it many times, and even though I know I contribute to their waffling, I'm constantly asking them to tell me what they really want, then going back and telling them why they're wrong. In an effort to change, I covered up the names of the paint colors, and asked him again what he wanted. Sure enough, he picked his first choice again. I resigned myself to paint it, and it looks great.
You would think this one interaction would have given me all the insight I needed into myself, and I would have made changes. Like most people, though, I don't learn things easily. Maybe, that's not like most people, but I don't learn things easily, and many of these habits are so entrenched, they take repeated, gloriously ugly screw ups for me to learn what I need to learn. And in this instance I hadn't screwed up gloriously enough. Luke was generally unscathed by this interaction, and although I felt bad about second guessing him, I didn't get the deeper message.
Skip a few weeks to my daughter's room. My tween. She got this great rainbow quilt from a friend of ours, and she wanted her room to be fun and eclectic. Originally we discussed a purple, but when we got a couple of the paint samples up on the wall, she was over purple (which was a color I had pushed anyway). She decided she wanted to try a green and a yellow, I talked her into looking at a blue (which she didn't really want because All my friends' bedrooms are turquoise). In the home improvement store, she busied herself picking out paint samples and I busied myself shooting down her choices. She really wanted a bright yellow green, even though I tried to talk her into a more muted green tone. I let her pick the chartreuse, thinking, I'll just talk her into the yellow and blue later (Yes, we picked a blue, which was not really turquoise, but kind of aqua like, and yes, that was all me). We got the paint samples home, painted them on the wall, and she immediately said, I like the green.
In that instant, I started her questioning her choice, to add insult to injury, I posted a pic with the paint samples to facebook, and asked all my "friends" for their opinions, (which of course varied wildly, and ultimately didn't matter because they weren't going to be living in the room. No offense facebook friends, I truly do value your opinions.) She read every stinking comment. I later found her in her room crying at the agony of not being able to make a decision. Looking at my daughter, crumpled in a ball of tears, and tweenage pleaser indecision, I realized what is probably blatantly obvious to everyone besides myself, that I ask this amazing, spirited, intelligent, witty, gifted girl to make her own decisions, and listen to her intuition, and feel confident in her choices, and then I go and talk her out of them. Lame. Bad, bad, mommy.
I snuggled her up, and we talked it through, and I realized that she really did want the green, but she was so wrapped up in pleasing everyone else she had completely disregarded her choice. Needless to say, I painted that room green. Yellowish green. Chartreuse. Almost neon. The whole stinking room. I apologized to my child for questioning her wisdom about her own room, and told her I thought she had made the right choice for herself, and she's still saying she loves it. It's actually pretty cute, different, fun and full of energy, just like her. If I have to paint it in a year or two, her learning to listen to her gut, and me learning to let my kids make their own decisions, will be worth every brush stroke.
As for Clive, he immediately said, Purple, dark, dark purple. I had in mind a color called Swimming Pool Blue, but I had learned something from the other two. Lucky Clive, always gets the benefit of my hard won wisdom. Well, almost, I still couldn't help myself from questioning him, Are you sure? And he looked me right in the eye, with all the confidence of the third child and said, YEP!
You would think this one interaction would have given me all the insight I needed into myself, and I would have made changes. Like most people, though, I don't learn things easily. Maybe, that's not like most people, but I don't learn things easily, and many of these habits are so entrenched, they take repeated, gloriously ugly screw ups for me to learn what I need to learn. And in this instance I hadn't screwed up gloriously enough. Luke was generally unscathed by this interaction, and although I felt bad about second guessing him, I didn't get the deeper message.
Skip a few weeks to my daughter's room. My tween. She got this great rainbow quilt from a friend of ours, and she wanted her room to be fun and eclectic. Originally we discussed a purple, but when we got a couple of the paint samples up on the wall, she was over purple (which was a color I had pushed anyway). She decided she wanted to try a green and a yellow, I talked her into looking at a blue (which she didn't really want because All my friends' bedrooms are turquoise). In the home improvement store, she busied herself picking out paint samples and I busied myself shooting down her choices. She really wanted a bright yellow green, even though I tried to talk her into a more muted green tone. I let her pick the chartreuse, thinking, I'll just talk her into the yellow and blue later (Yes, we picked a blue, which was not really turquoise, but kind of aqua like, and yes, that was all me). We got the paint samples home, painted them on the wall, and she immediately said, I like the green.
In that instant, I started her questioning her choice, to add insult to injury, I posted a pic with the paint samples to facebook, and asked all my "friends" for their opinions, (which of course varied wildly, and ultimately didn't matter because they weren't going to be living in the room. No offense facebook friends, I truly do value your opinions.) She read every stinking comment. I later found her in her room crying at the agony of not being able to make a decision. Looking at my daughter, crumpled in a ball of tears, and tweenage pleaser indecision, I realized what is probably blatantly obvious to everyone besides myself, that I ask this amazing, spirited, intelligent, witty, gifted girl to make her own decisions, and listen to her intuition, and feel confident in her choices, and then I go and talk her out of them. Lame. Bad, bad, mommy.
I snuggled her up, and we talked it through, and I realized that she really did want the green, but she was so wrapped up in pleasing everyone else she had completely disregarded her choice. Needless to say, I painted that room green. Yellowish green. Chartreuse. Almost neon. The whole stinking room. I apologized to my child for questioning her wisdom about her own room, and told her I thought she had made the right choice for herself, and she's still saying she loves it. It's actually pretty cute, different, fun and full of energy, just like her. If I have to paint it in a year or two, her learning to listen to her gut, and me learning to let my kids make their own decisions, will be worth every brush stroke.
As for Clive, he immediately said, Purple, dark, dark purple. I had in mind a color called Swimming Pool Blue, but I had learned something from the other two. Lucky Clive, always gets the benefit of my hard won wisdom. Well, almost, I still couldn't help myself from questioning him, Are you sure? And he looked me right in the eye, with all the confidence of the third child and said, YEP!
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