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The Honolulu Advertiser
Posted on: Sunday, May 18, 2008

Standing convicted by a lifetime of mistakes

By Treena Shapiro

When I was a teenager, I once took my father's car out on a weeknight, hit a concrete barrier on the Pali, limped the car home and left the mangled car in the garage for my father to take to work the next morning.

I was sober, in case you're wondering. I was just stupid.

I suspect my parents can tick off a number of times I was even more inconsiderate than that.

That's one of those things that pops into my head when I find myself getting frustrated with my kids.

So my son doesn't want to get off the computer.

So my daughter asks for something to eat just as I'm finishing the dishes.

How do such manini things get so magnified?

My son, who usually just gets defiant, called me on my intolerance the other day when I asked him where something was.

"Why are you asking me? You already know," he accused me.

He was right. I was trying to get an admission from him. As far as he was concerned, I was just doing what I always do: trying to make him feel guilty.

I don't know when I went from being a kid trying to get away with stuff, to a parent who doesn't want her kids to get away with anything. After a lifetime of mistakes, I should know better.

I don't want my kids to run rampant. I want them to know they have to treat people — and things — with respect. I need them to take responsibility for their actions.

How can I teach them that, though, when every little thing escalates into war ... when sneaking a book under the covers past bedtime takes on the same proportion as missing homework, which takes on the same proportion as a temper tantrum?

At a certain point, we need to dial it back, lower our voices and concede that even if things aren't perfect, it's not all doom and gloom.

Maybe I'm too quick to whisk away the laptop, seize the remote control and sentence the kids to bed. Sometimes I know I jump to extremes when a few minutes of quiet time would suffice. Maybe I do "always" make my son feel guilty.

Neither of my kids has done anything that rises to the level of a car wreck or even some of my far lesser offenses.

It's about time I stop making them feel like they have.

Reach Treena Shapiro at tshapiro@honoluluadvertiser.com.