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The Power to Parent Ourselves

I'm feeling rundown by parenting.

Austin is 6, about to be 7 on March 1st.  

If you're not a parent, hang in here with me.


He's in a season where saying no to everything is his top priority.

He loves calling most things dumb.

He's entirely put out by having to repeat the same tasks everyday.

Yep. Me too, son. Particularly the part where I repeat myself over and over to get you to do something.


As of late, when he decides he's absolutely not doing something, I feel helpless. Having exhausted my parenting techniques and with no desire to repeat my past mistakes of manhandling him and yelling, I find myself staring blankly into space and walking away.


Part of me feels affronted. How dare you say no to me.

The other part of me wants to fist bump him and say, Respect. I get it.

I've felt discouraged, tired, and cried on my bathroom floor.


This morning a new thought came to me. What if walking away is an act of courage? 

What if taking a different tack and admitting I am out of options is an act of surrender? 


This blog has less to do with parenting and more to do with allowing.


Can we admit that we have gone as far as we can go? That we need to step away and emotionally regulate so we don't do or say something we regret.

Can we let go of our will?

Is it possible the other person knows something I don't? 


Last week in the Pump Up Session we talked about giving up vs. giving it up.

Giving up, in this situation, would be saying, to hell with it. Do whatever the hell you like. That's not what I'm saying at all.

It's important that Austin learns accountability. It's important that I follow through and set firm boundaries. It's important that I take responsibility for my emotions and limits. In these ways, I'm not giving up.

I am, however, giving it up. I'm giving up on the idea that my plan for how to communicate with Austin is the best. Heck, that I know best in general. I'm giving up my ideas about what I want this relationship to be. 


So, if walking away sounds and feels like courage, which it does to me, I feel heartened. 

During our latest episode yesterday evening, I quietly walked out of his room after he refused to get in the shower after finishing our game of foosbol. We'd talked about the plan to do twice and he'd agreed. A few minutes later he found me upstairs and said, Time machine? which is our code for, can we start again? That was his idea by the way.

Humbly, I said, Yes, we can.


One of the most important skills we can develop in this lifetime is to parent ourselves to let go and start again. 


I love you.

Sarah x