Happy Wednesday, folks.

My house, my rules.

Have you heard that one before?  So have I – in various forms.

Parent > child {because I’m your mother and I said so}

Spouse > spouse {because I pay the bills around here}

Co-parent > co-parent {because you don’t get to control me anymore}

If your kids are like mine, they’re smart enough to recognize that expectations of them vary according to where they are – who they are with [read:  Grandma’s house vs. school].

But what’s on my mind today is the standard parent-on-parent power struggle that pops into most homes simply because 1) we are all so different and 2) we have never done this before, but we know what is best for our child.

By now, you may know that I am divorced.

While their dad and I strive for solidarity when it comes to the boys’ development, there are just some things that they can do at “his house” and they cannot do at “my house” and vice versa.  It’s really not that much different than your nuclear family, folks…there are things that the kids can get away with when papa is home and others when mama is home.

So if the kids eat Cinnamon Toast Crunch with dad, because he’s a fan, or watch Malcolm in the Middle with me, because I’m a fan, I can swallow that.

Because in the scheme of things, that’s nothing.  Truly.

Okay, so maybe “my house, my rules” is too brash of a term when referring to generally amicable co-parents, but even in the best of circumstances, sometimes, someone plays that card {you can’t make me tell you who though – wink}.

What’s really important to me is that the people who share the kids’ lives are foundationally in alignment with my hopes and dreams for them.  I have a big vision.

My grandfather was a Colonel in the United States Marine Corps.  When we buried him in February in Arlington National Cemetery, my boys got an intimate-view of some of the young men, and the old dogs, of the Corps.

As we left the cemetery that morning, from the rearview I could see that they were deep in thought.  And before I knew it, they were sharing how they wanted to be “good men” like the Marines they had just met.  They wanted to be polite and giving.  Strong and kind.

They wanted to stand for something.  {I want you to stand for something, too, my sons.}

In the midst of the sadness of burying two people [we were fortunate enough to be able to bury my grandmother, who passed away in 2009, beside him] who I loved so much that it makes me cry today as I type about them, I felt pride.

I fluff my feathers a little bit when they set goals to become twin Eagle Scouts, start their own businesses, or earn academic scholarships to college.  But it doesn’t stop there.  Because they can say it and mean it, but if they don’t receive support, encouragement, and nourishment from the adults in their lives, those goals are going to get harder and harder to achieve.

Right now, at 8, it’s relatively easy for their dad and me to be on the same page.  It’s all pretty straightforward.  Because you can’t screw them up for life if you put them in Boy Scout camp instead of baseball camp in the summer.  Easy decisions.

Disclosure here as a mom with a 17-year old at home, as well:  “Easy decisions”, yes, but I believe they are also critical.  When they are little, that is the time to model the direction you want for them to go.  Because when they’re 13, it’s harder to convince them that trudging through the woods all morning or sweating in left field all afternoon is a great idea.  While they may choose to stop scouting, baseball, art, or music in a few years, I want them to always have what they learned while they were there.  So I make it a priority.

Let me step off of my soapbox now.

As they get older, however, the lines become more blurred.  You let the rope out a bit and they start making their own decisions.  And some of their choices suck.  Instead of working toward becoming an Eagle Scout, they might start dreaming about getting out of this place and not having to listen to me anymore.  They might not see the impact of losing a part-time job because they have a habit of oversleeping or driving around without wearing the seatbelt.  They might really like Cinnamon Toast Crunch more than Malcolm in the Middle, and they might choose to turn their back on me and my big vision.

In either a nuclear or blended family, issues flare when one of the parents loses site of the best interest of the child.  When it’s more important to them that they beat the other parent – especially when those parents are divorced.

So if my boys opt to spend more time at their dad’s house when they get older, I want us all to feel good about that.  It may sting.  Who am I kidding?  It’s going to be painful.  You child growing up and away from you seems to have that effect sometimes.  But if you raise your children right, alongside a parent who respects you, my hope {yes, my fingers are crossed as I’m typing so forgive any typos in this paragraph} is that you can navigate those decisions with love and confidence.

The thing is that I’m getting a huge dose of reality in my own life right now.  I recognize that, as they get older, I can’t command the boys to stick to the schedule their dad and I came up with when they were two.  It’s not that easy.  And while I’m not going to dwell on it while they are still little, it’s incredibly important to me that their dad and I do everything we can to establish our unity when it comes to their growth.  The vision for their prosperous futures.  So that if the time comes that they want to spend more time with him or with me, we both know that it’s simply because they’re growing up, and are prepared to make concrete decisions that will better their lives.

We are fortunate enough to be able to make those decisions for them now.  We are fortunate enough to be able to teach them how to do that for themselves in the future.

I’m raising a few good men – with lots of help – who are bound to stand for something.

Because I’m their mother and I said so.

See you on the flip-side.

In love,

Noelle
xoxox