A Parent's View: Coach your child, don't take over for her

SALT LAKE CITY — Chapter one of my life as a mother is currently closed.

I am no longer pregnant or hoping to become so.

I am no longer nursing and grateful to be so.

Though it was a great ride being pregnant or nursing for 6.16666 years — oh, mama, it’s nice. Ever so nice.

Not ever so easy — but nice.

The observation

Now I’m in chapter two — able to volunteer in my children's classrooms. Every Friday I enter my daughter’s class with my two youngest, fisting bags overflowing with snacks, in order to morph into "the banker."

Her teacher calls it money management, but I prefer banking because it gives me a more prominent title. I think I should have a hat. Or at least a lunch break. But I’m only there for about an hour.

Though my pay is nil, but I have learned a valuable lesson worth more than anything I can stuff in my daughter’s piggy bank. I see firsthand the benefits of training children to think, make mistakes and try again. I have felt confirmation that my views on parenting I've stolen from LoveandLogic.com are right for our family.

All week the children get counterfeit money for being on time and completing homework, and they put it into their little banks. If they make poor decisions individually or as a class, their pay is docked.

And at the end of the week, I help them calculate their pesos that they can either save or spend. There is a cart with prizes costing anywhere from 50 cents to $10; and if they save to $20 they can get a personal pizza to devour in the classroom for lunch.

Wow. Who can dream bigger than that?

I rarely need to encourage them to spend because about one-third of the class dumps out their change, counts it and eagerly hands it over to.

And I want to inform them that you can get most of this at the dollar store, but I’m just the banker, not the investment specialist.

Throughout the week, the children are supposed to keep track of their market profits and losses. But I think as the year has waned, so has the accounting acumen of the kids, parents and teachers.

Except one.

One parent, that is. Her child’s sheets are always, always filled in accurately each day, penalties and positives noted. And on Friday it is pre-totaled with the saved amount circled in red ink.

I realize there may be a few things going on behind the scenes here:

1. The parent and child may discuss together her savings plan, her goal and whether she wants to save or spend ahead of time.
2. The mother probably wants her to learn the hold-your-breath excitement of saving for a bouncy ball.
3. She has waaaay too much time on her hands.
4. This mother is a wee bit too involved and could be defined as the dreaded hover-Mom.

With four children, one with cerebral palsy, I get the wanting to protect your kid mentality. I understand the desire and compulsion to teach, mold and prepare. It is a real struggle to know when to push and when to step back and let them figure it out as you wince and watch through your fingers.

My No. 4 hypothesis was given a little check mark one day when the girl was longingly looking at a fuchsia pink snap bracelet in the $4 drawer. She had earned around 10 dollars, and I eagerly suggested, “Would you like to spend?”

She thought. And hummed. Looked and thought.

Rather reluctantly, ”No…I’m supposed to be saving for the pizza.”

You gotta give her an A for obedience.

This is where I want to pause the scene, grab the mom, drag her down to the school and say, “Whose life is this? Whose reward is this? Whose slap-bracelet-vs.-pizza-for-lunch decision is this? You’ve already had second grade, let her have hers for crying out loud!”

Lesson learned

I realize that some kids require more one-on-one monitoring when it comes to decisions based on special needs. But overall, my opinion is to allow my children the opportunity to choose, appropriately as much as possible, and allow them to mess up early when the consequences are not as high or deadly.

I’m not naturally athletic. I’ve never played in a competitive sport. But from what I gather from occasional snippets I’ve viewed while asking my husband dumb questions like, “How many quarters are in baseball again?” the coach doesn’t get to play in the game.

Parenting is a lot like coaching: You teach, you mentor, you prepare, you run drills, you practice and you train them to play the game of life. But you step off the field and let them show you how well they’ve learned.

And if they fumble, you dole out consequences if necessary. Then you train, practice and teach some more. And when they get it — when they succeed — you take none, absolutely none of the glory. Because it’s their game, their life.

And just as you can’t own their success, you can’t own their failure or their handicap either. I’ve realized that I am like the people in those odd curling matches, clearing the path for my kids the best I can. But what they do with that preparation is their decision.

Their challenges and gifts, whether observable or not, are theirs and theirs alone. Goodness knows, I have enough issues of my own to work on. I can help and support, and a loving God will lift — but the work and results are theirs to enjoy or suffer.

My children’s challenges, successes and failures are theirs. Not mine. So, I step back. I coach. But I put great effort to not force, take over or circle their future choices in red. I’ve had a great life, and now it’s time for theirs.

And I enjoy watching the game unfold.

Elizabeth loves embarrassing her children and making others laugh. She currently resides in Montana among beautiful scenery, long winters and an incredible array of hairy animals.

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