Stockholm Syndrome

CAUTION : Irritated Mom. The following may contain less than loving comments. Any lack of adoration or joy is completely and wholly the truth.

Can someone please tell me how I can share in one breath the joys and moment to moment delights of being a mom, and all of a sudden "BAM!" I can only see through eyes of irritation, frustration, and simmering anger?

“Can we have anything nice?” Is the constant mantra from my husband Paul. I hear these words when he tries to start our car amidst an array of stray papers, Mcdonald toys and sticky cupholders. I hear these words when the sound of our children slamming any door in the house, rings in our ears (this includes kitchen cabinets, sliding doors,pocket doors and car doors.)

I opened our kitchen pantry the other day to find the peanut butter (picture above) with Reynolds Wrap being used as a type of lid-sling for the broken top.

What makes this so curiously intersting is this: there is a hole in the middle of the lid. Not a crack on the side, not a chip around the rim, but a hole in the middle of the plastic lid.

Do my children have access to some type of drill or peanut butter skillsaw, that I am not aware of? Today, when I went to turn on my kitchen faucet, the handle came off in my hand. The guilty suspect is a 13year old boy we call "son". I have watched him use this faucet in ways that would earn a pat on the back from any NASCAR driver.

Irritated. Annoyed. Frustrated. You bet your tooshie I am. I feel like an abused woman, "But, I love them!" I silently scream. I need them. I couldn't survive without them.

It got me to thinking, what I'm feeling may possibly be "Stockholm Syndrome". Now, before you roll your eyes hear me out. I looked this syndrome up in the dictionary.

Stockholm syndrome n. A psychological condition in which hostages or victims of kid-nappings (my emphasis/hyphen added) sometimes develop positive feelings towards their captors, on whom they depend for their survival.

C'mon, admit it, you know it sounds like a completely logical explanation.



Originally posted 11/14/07

911 Help

“911 Emergency.” The voice on the other end of the phone was frantic. Words cracked as a mother relayed a desperate story. “My daughter Lisa just called me from home. She is wrapping Christmas gifts in her bedroom upstairs and thinks she heard someone come into the house. She can hear male voices downstairs. Her father and I are driving home from shopping.” As both mother and father raced back, they called 911 to get help for their child.

The parents arrived faster than the police did. It took everything I had to convince dad not to run into their house to help his daughter. If there was someone inside, we didn’t want him hurt. I told the parents to park down the street, telling them that the police were only a few minutes away. “Please wait. We are on the way to help your daughter.”

Waiting isn’t easy, especially when we have to hold back from running in and solving our kids’ problems. From the moment our warm bundle of love is placed in our arms, to the day those chubby, dimpled arms grow up and reach out for their own children, we desire to protect and help them. Whether our children are two or fifty-two, we respond to their hurts, and fears, their tears and pain.

It was easier to be a parent when my children were small. I could run in and be their help and protection. They often giggled when I shared the macabre ways I would deal with anyone who messed with any of them. I prided myself in being their 911 help.

Slowly, I’m learning to let go. My adult daughter and almost-adult-son have been great teaching tools. Surrendering my control, my protection, my covering into the hands of the Lord is an ongoing process. I thought I’d share a few lessons I’ve learned over the years:

•Excuses – I have to stop making excuses for helping, and keep my mouth and my wallet shut.

•Rescue – I’m not my kids’ life raft. How are they ever going to learn to make it on their own, if I’m rescuing them from everything?

•Spankings – I’ve bent over life’s knee and received a few good spankings. I survived and learned A LOT from them - my kids will too.

•Stealing – Each time I over-help my kids, I steal their testimony. I take away an opportunity for their faith to grow. I should not be my kids “Holy Spirit”. The Lord doesn’t need my help.


The 911 call ended well. The teenager had confused the TV downstairs as intruders. The parents succeeded at waiting for help to arrive. You can imagine what it was like to try and convince them to stay in the car. Those few minutes, only yards away from their daughter, must have felt like the longest moments of their life.

What a reminder to me that God has things under control. I need to wait on Him. He's the real professional here. He loves my kids more than I do.

I think I'll take a break and let the Lord help them today.


God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Psalm 46:1

Free of Charge

Hey there Mr. Playground-Dad. Yes, I'm talking to you. I've been watching you and your son for quite some time now. Would you like to know the one question that keeps popping into my head over and over again?

Have you lost your mind!?

For the past ten minutes, I've witnessed your son yell at you, slap you, and refuse to sit beside you in a time-out. Your only response when he wiggled away was to yell, “You're going straight to bed when we get home.” Your son yelled back even louder, “No I'm not!”

Why didn't you get up and run after him? Why didn't you pick him up and walk out of the play area? Why did you let him continue playing? Are you afraid of him? He can't be older than five.

What's that? You're tired?

Too bad. Parenting isn't an option. Lots of us parents are tired. Poor excuse dad. Do you think parents of well-behaved children aren't tired? You are the adult. He is the child.

You can tread water longer than he can make it rain.

Thanks to parents like you, children are growing up without respect for adults. Your lack of discipline fuels the monster-child you're raising into a monster-adult who feels entitled, disrespects authority, and doesn't understand the word “No.” Is that the kind of man you want your son to grow up to be?

I didn't think so.

Because I care so much, I'm offering my spanking services free of charge today. Make sure your son is busy on the slide. I wouldn't want him to see his father cry.

She is His.

My heart is breaking. Transition is taking place. Change is happening and I don't like it at all. I told the Lord she was His long ago, even reminded Him on occasion about our deal when she annoyed and irritated me. This day seemed so far off. Tucking her into bed, reading her stories, watching her dimples flash with joy over the simplest of things. A giggle. A word. A memory. My precious, precious child.

My oldest is moving out on her own. At almost eighteen years old, she is too much like her mother. Now in college, she wants to experience everything, taste and see it all. I have done my best to hold her back, and my not-so-best to hold her back.

She leaves happy, on a good note. Her father and I have helped her gather up belongings and will lovingly place her bed and dresser in her new home. But still the questions haunt me.

Have I done enough? Taught her enough? Encouraged her enough? Loved her enough?

I'm counting the days and hours before a mother's death sentence... letting go. I look into her beautiful blue eyes and see a desire to step out from under the confines of a home now keeping her, smothering her, with too many rules. She doesn't understand. She doesn't know what lies beyond the door. I want to keep her from it. But I can't.

"Every good mother, sooner or later, must understand she is denied ownership; she is merely granted stewardship." T.D.Jakes

Her mission soon begins. Mission: a group or persons sent to a foreign country to conduct negotiations and establish relations. She will be stepping out into the world where I pray she will make a difference for Him. "Like arrows in the hand of a warrior, so are the children of one's youth." Psalm 127:4 Like those arrows, she is meant to soar.

But, does she truly know what I know about her? She is gifted. Does she see in herself what I see in her - opportunities beyond her wildest dreams.

Only a few miles away in a simple cottage, enjoying the freedom she craves. Still close enough to stop by and raid the refrigerator, do her laundry, and remind me once again she is no longer mine.

She is His.


"...I have called you by your name; You are Mine." Isaiah 43:1

I'm Sgt. Strict. Who are you?

Today I took a quiz over at We Are That Family. I wasn't surprised at all when my parenting style was graded and I was deemed "Sgt. Strict".

When I come into work or call my girlfriend and share my stories from home (many, many, many that I would never share here), they always are surprised at how strict my husband and I are.

Even more surprising is that I don't think we're all that bad. I think that everyone else is a bunch of softies.

So, I included a few parenting no-brainers from our home and for your reading entertainment below. Feel free to adopt any or all for your very own.

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* Children are to knock on our bedroom door before barging in. Only three things will give them an open sesame without knocking first:

1. If they are bleeding.

2. If they have already thrown-up.

3. If they are on fire.


* Bedtime is 8pm. End of discussion.

* Every minute late past curfew = one day restriction.
(Our oldest teenager was nine minutes late coming home - ONCE.)


Head on over and take the quiz yourself. Then make sure to come back and let us know how you scored.

T-Mobile Mom to Mom Quiz: "

Take the fun, Mom to Mom quiz and discover your parenting style.

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KUDOS FOR STRICT MOM

Last night my husband and I were at our daughter's high school for a financial planning meeting. With college only eighteen months away, we need to know just what to expect. Our neighbors sat next to us. Since Paul and I are known as the mean parents on the block, they often threaten their own four children, that if they don't like their discipline they can always come over to our house. My husband enjoys that so much. Anyway, since we have a reputation for being 'Mean Parents', they gave us a copy of the story below. If you haven't already read about this 'Mean Mom', I think you will be blessed.

This mom doesn't prescribe to the 'Not My Kid!' rule of parenting.



DES MOINES, Iowa - Jane Hambleton has dubbed herself the "meanest mom on the planet."

After finding alcohol in her son's car, she decided to sell the car and share her 19-year-old's misdeed with everyone — by placing an ad in the local newspaper.

The ad reads: "OLDS 1999 Intrigue. Totally uncool parents who obviously don't love teenage son, selling his car. Only driven for three weeks before snoopy mom who needs to get a life found booze under front seat. $3,700/offer. Call meanest mom on the planet."

Hambleton has heard from people besides interested buyers since recently placing the ad in The Des Moines Register.

The 48-year-old from Fort Dodge says she has fielded more than 70 telephone calls from emergency room technicians, nurses, school counselors and even a Georgia man who wanted to congratulate her.

"The ad cost a fortune, but you know what? I'm telling people what happened here," Hambleton says. "I'm not just gonna put the car for resale when there's nothing wrong with it, except the driver made a dumb decision.

"It's overwhelming the number of calls I've gotten from people saying 'Thank you, it's nice to see a responsible parent.' So far there are no calls from anyone saying, 'You're really strict. You're real overboard, lady.'"

The only critic is her son, who Hambleton says is "very, very unhappy" with the ad and claims the alcohol was left by a passenger.

Hambleton said she believes her son but has decided mercy isn't the best policy in this case. She says she set two rules when she bought the car at Thanksgiving: No booze, and always keep it locked.

The car has been sold, but Hambleton says she will continue the ad for another week —just for the feedback.