Innocence

AWW, 10/26/11
non-subject ~ innocence
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Innocence
Guilt
Shame

There were times I was so hard on my children. It causes my heart to droop, my eye to tear. I'm thankful as adults, we can all talk about those times. Yet I wonder if it affected them deeper than they let on. I wonder, if ten years from now, they'll recall the harsh times and recognize that those harsh times are part of who they are.

At least we have discussed it, though the kids mainly don't want to. Or they roll their eyes at me like, "Oh Mom. We aren't damaged for life."

Mid 1990s. We sat at the dining room table, myself, my son who must have been around 5 or 6, and my daughter who must have been around 7 or 8. As often typical, Daughter would not respond to me when I asked her something. I can't recall what it was, something about crayons or coloring or something. Most likely she did respond, but I deemed the response not good enough and so I would push her for more. What a jerk I was. I can't recall the details, just the emotions. Daughter was supposed to obey me, which meant she was supposed to answer my questions straight forward.

Like the teaching tape from The Way, one of the many about children obeying their parents in the Lord. On that tape, Reverend shared about teaching the ABCs to his son. Reverend stated that Reverend's son was to recite after Reverend, "A, B, C, D" and that if his son refused, it was proper to strike his son with a wooden spoon. Not a beating, but a strike. His son was supposed to obey.

I never went that far, to strike my children for not repeating the ABCs properly. But I struck them for other acts of disobedience. I didn't use a wooden spoon; wooden spoons were for stirring batter. I used a switch. And I struck them with words, harsh words. And then I'd feel bad, terribly bad. Why couldn't they just obey the first time? Anything less than obedience the first time was not obedience.

One time, Daughter refused to take her vitamins at breakfast. I threw water from the table glass in her face. I told her she needed to obey and swallow the pills. I don't recall now if she ever did. Though quiet, like her father, she could be quite stubborn, which now I'm glad she was.

Son was different than Daughter. Son showed more emotion, like me.

Sometime last year Son, now 21, chuckling confessed to me how when he was a child he used to put his raw veggies in his jean pants pockets when I wasn't looking. Then he'd throw them out when helping to clear the table. And I thought he ate those veggies.

On more than one occasion when I tried to spank Son, he fought back, literally. He wrestled me telling me it was wrong to hit people. He must have been around 6 or 7 years old when, one day he brought the switches in a room where I was sitting and broke them in front of me. "Momma it's wrong."

I never used a switch again; I did use my palm a few more times. And I still used harsh words.

I'm not sure which was worse.

I am not innocent.
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