When my kids were little, I constantly uttered the word, “No.” But as they started developing into their own persons, my emotions shifted. When they were little, their safety depended on my warning, but as they grew older I felt a hesitation. At first, I ignored this inclination, but eventually I investigated my heart and discovered the reason; I wanted them to like me. If you have trouble saying no to your kids too, this blog is for you.

My husband recently told me that one of my common phrases is, "I feel bad that..." I never noticed how bad I felt for everything...for so many things I didn't need to feel bad for...until he made me aware. I felt bad when my kids got in trouble, got their feelings hurt, weren't having enough fun, or when I felt like a "bad mom." At first I tried to justify my guilty feelings by telling myself that Clayton was an insensitive guy. But, after years of trying to explain to him why I felt guilty (and why he should too), I understood that I was worrying about things that weren't my responsibility. I was carrying other people's burdens in the name of compassion and love, but was actually motivated by guilt.

Something happened inside me when I gave birth to my kids. I became obsessed with keeping peace among them. I wanted to make them stop yelling, stop hitting, stop picking at each other, stop throwing things at one another, stop, stop, stop. But controversy and tension among them happened every day and nothing I did or said took it away.And then, on the radio one day, I heard this quote from Focus on the Family. "If your boys are fighting, they are bonding.

We were standing in her kitchen talking about kids and Christmas when my friend said, “I was trying to explain to my daughter that Christmas is about Jesus, but she said, ‘No mom, it’s about getting presents.’ She’s only four, so I get it, but I’m just trying to figure out how to teach her the true meaning.” 

Parenting. The word itself carries so many emotions: joy, fear, hope, doubt and pride. When my first son was born I was honored and terrified at the same time. How could God trust me to keep this child alive, much less guide him spiritually? What if I don't have what it takes to be the parent he needs? What if I give him the wrong advice or steer him in the wrong direction? What if I'm not loving, wise, caring, strict or compassionate enough? What if I'm not up for the calling?

Realistically, though, there was no going back. I had to move forward. So I did.