Please, No Brats

We live in a modest home with modest things. 

However, even as I write that, I realize the “modest” things we have may be considered extraordinary to some.  We have a TV in the toy room for crying out loud (not to mention 3 others in the home, and one in the garage.)  The fact we have an entire room in our house dedicated to toys may even be on the “high” end for some.  We’re not featured on Cribs and even other “modest” friends of ours have bigger and better, but I write this all down to voice a concern that is bubbling up inside of me.

I don’t want to raise brats.
I don’t want my girls to come to expect everything that they want.  Heavens knows we NEVER get everything we want.  It’s part of the human experience.

Kids need to know they can earn and achieve things.
Kids need to know they can bounce back from failure and disappointment.
Kids need to know they can land softly with failure and feel love no matter the outcome.

I hate watching my girls cry, even if it’s over the lack of a second pack of fruit snacks.  I hate it because A.  It’s loud and obnoxious and B.  Because I can fix it so easily.  Just give them another one.  Just give them what they want. 

If I’ve said no, that’s the answer.
Even if “at Grandma’s house we…”
Mom and Dad make the rules, no matter where you are, they must be followed. 

As Liv gets ready for Kindergarten, she needs to know and respect that authority, not only from Nate and me, but from teachers too.  She can’t just get to because she wants to.

Avery scares me even more.
She’s my baby.  I want to keep her a baby, but she’s almost two (and boy, those terrible twos are coming hard and fast.)  She gets to play the little sister and poor Liv has to let her.  Avery has a very hard time with the word NO.
I realize she’s only 2.  Time will come for us to be stronger in our enforcement.
But again, I’m scared to death that we’ll fall into a pattern of “next year, she’s just too little, it’s not so bad yet,” and I’ll end up watching a tape of myself being yelled at by Dr. Phil saying “What were you thinking!?”

So my parenting prayer as of yet is:
Please Lord, let my girls be happy and strong.  Help me be a good, calm mother to them.  Please, please, please don’t let them grow up to be assholes.

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