My mom isn't lucky to have five amazing kids. Quite the opposite, actually. It was not luck, but a lot of hard work, that produced five kind, diligent, smart kids.
Having a kid and being a parent are two very different things. Think of it as being presented with two pieces of clay. One lump of clay is not touched; it remains an unformed lump. The other piece of clay, though, is molded carefully and mindfully. Parenting well is molding, shaping, taking away and adding to the piece of clay, consistently -- every day, especially on the days that you don't feel like it.
My mom did not spoil us. As a physician, she probably had the money to. But she didn't. I was told "no" a lot of times. To a new Barbie, to that candy bar by the checkout, to a later bedtime. However, it was all of those "no's" that taught me gratitude. If I was given a "yes" to everything, why would I be grateful for what I was given? On the days when my mom said "yes" to a Reese's cup, she would be greeted with wide eyes, a giddy smile and a big hug.
We were actively taught independence. All of us -- even in elementary school -- packed our own lunches. I didn't have the coolest lunches (I still swoon over fancy sandwiches with lettuce and tomato), but I did have a sense of pride and independence. In order to make our own lunches, we had to wake up early (on our own). This was also a lesson in responsibility. If we were foolish with how we spent our time, lunch was a dud. We also made our own beds and folded our own laundry. I'm not saying that good parenting is contingent upon the child making their lunch or doing their own laundry, but, with my mother, it helped us grow.
Each day, my mom worked hard to teach us manners. Our tables were, and still are, surrounded by "please's" and "thank you's." We helped set the table, clear the table and do dishes. If my brother wanted mashed potatoes, he'd ask Josh to "please pass those mash potatoes." My mom instilled the belief that manners and kindness are for everyone, siblings included. I'm sure many days, exhausted from 36 hour shifts at the hospital, my mom didn't feel like drilling in manners lessons. But she never dropped the ball. If one of us shouted an unkindness at another ("Hey idiot, maybe you should study more"), we were promptly chastised. But to tell you the truth, these incidents were very rare. We respected (and had a respectful fear) of our mother. She raised us in a house overflowing with love and silliness, but that didn't mean that respect didn't have a place in our home
We didn't "talk back." We were taught how to speak our minds with intelligence and kindness for others. We were taught how to have civil discourse. If we were rude or unkind, we were punished, whether that was being excused from the table or a powerful, heartbreaking "I'm disappointed in you."
Growing up, it was glaringly evident that our mom loved us more than anything in the world, but she didn't spoil us. In fact, didn't spoil us because she loved us. She had an end goal in mind: five hardworking, kind, grateful humans. We did yard work. Chores. We ate the gross Brussels sprouts. We were put in time out. We were reprimanded when we did something wrong, and were given the most loving hugs when we did something right. My mom taught us to do the right thing, even if it's not popular. She taught us that there's right and wrong. She taught us that opinion, especially unkind opinion, is a low form of knowledge.
My mom was often told, "Oh Mary Beth, you are so lucky to have such smart kids." Nope. Maybe somewhere in our genes is a slight predisposition to perform well academically, but for the most part, it was a lot of hard work. As kids, we were expected to study. After school, we had a quick snack, but then we went right to work. We studied hard for tests, did all of our homework and asked questions when we didn't understand. Contrary to popular (or unpopular) belief, my siblings and I didn't enter a classroom without doing so little as to glance at our notes. We worked hard, in and out of the classroom, and our grades reflect that.
Because of a combination of discipline and respect, we didn't drink or mess around with drugs. Why would we? We respected our mom. Our desire to show her love was greater than our desire to be "cool." We were going big places. We knew the biological effect of those substances on our body. Maybe it was all of those years of being told to "entertain yourself" that allowed my siblings and I to find better ways to occupy our time than underage drinking. Also, my mom passed down her wit and silliness. Drugs and alcohol were never a necessity in the equation of fun.
We learned about "the real world." We weren't sheltered from the reality of poverty, homelessness or war. Consequently, we learned of gratitude. We didn't kick and scream for more because we were educated in life to realize there is someone who always has it worse. Some parents may not want to expose their children to life's harshness, but our exposure allowed my siblings and I to grow empathetically. Each day, she taught us lessons in how to be selfless, not selfish.
If I zoom out, it's easy to see why one -- without any insight into my mom's parenting -- might call my mom "lucky." I'm at University of Dayton with an amazing scholarship. I was class president all four years in high school. I'm editor-in-chief of my university's newspaper. My brother Ben was also class president all four years in high school. He's now an officer in the Navy. My brother Josh was freshman, sophomore and junior class president. He's a rising sophomore at the Naval Academy and is currently interning at NASA this summer. My youngest siblings, Maggie and Zach, are on student council and hold other leadership position. This is not a freakish stroke of luck. Luck has nothing to do with it. It's a display of hard but rewarding parenting. We were actively parented by my mom from birth to our eighteenth birthdays, and beyond.
My mom was a busy woman. She left the house at 5:15 a.m to work at the hospital. Even with these hours, she made sure to parent us. She gave us the tools to be successful on our own while she was away. We had a sense of personal responsibility. If we forgot a poster/lunch/essay, we'd have two choices: run back home (we lived near the school) or face the consequences.
As an overworked physician, it would have been easier for my mom to give in, to shrug off the mouthy kid ("Oh you know, just being teens") or to throw the candy into the cart. I've never been more grateful for all of my mom's "no's." They've opened my life up to a lifetime of "yes's."
