These days I find myself lamenting the fact that my children are constantly engaged in unrefined behavior. Straddling the
adults in the house, laying spread eagle whilst
wearing dresses, endless potty humor etc.. I'm the last person people
would expect to be concerned about such things.
I'm pretty irreverent,
loud, and relaxed at times. Alright, ALL the time.
Watching my kids
casualness has been making me cringe. I worry what lacking behavior now will
translate into later. I like myself just fine, rough edges and all, but we all want our
children to be better than we are, right? I want them to have filters. I want them to say please and thank you; yes sir, no ma'am. And, of course, I'm the one meant to teach them. The blind leading the blind here.
In an attempt to foster propriety and civility I've started feeding my
children a healthy diet of propaganda like Little Women and Jane Austen.
When they're old enough I'll introduce them to Shakespeare.
My favorite
is Much Ado About Nothing. Nothing quite teaches a lesson so exactly as
to watch Hero's fiance and father call her out and disown her for being accused (though unjustly) of wrinkling the sheets on weddings-eve. Always vindicated in
the end. "I do live. And I am a maid," fair Hero declares!
Alright, fine. Let it be known
that I will not disown my children nor fake their deaths to prove that
they were unjustly accused of adultery. I will, however, send subliminal
messages through these movies that suggest, frolicking in meadows and
reading aloud to one another is great fun and the honor of your good
name is to be your most prized possession. I just want them to glean all of the manners and etiquette while sifting out the gross stuff like class distinction, oppression of women, and scarlet fever.
I envision
sweet girls, cleanly dressed, legs locked tightly together at the knees
being an example of mild mannered kindness. Joey, a true gentleman never
wanting for more than the pleasure to serve and enjoy witty banter.
Quaint. The perfect word for what I see in my exhausted, burnt out motherly mind would
be... quaint. Just for a minute. Just one minute of quiet, sweet interactions and tempered tones.
I realize it's basically asking for a Stepford family of robot offspring. And really I don't want that. I love their energy, their spunk, their creativity. Even if it manifests in peanut butter stains on my clothes and a headache at the end of the day. They wouldn't be them and they wouldn't be mine if they weren't currently diving off the couch into a pile of pillows.
So, what's a mom who is out of her element to do? Try my best and give up the rest. I'll be an example of please and thank you. I'll praise them for kindness when I see or hear it. They'll keep making fart noises and we'll keep watching Beth die and I'll keep talking about how grateful we are for immunizations. And that sounds pretty quaint to me.
Labels: inspiration