If you’ve ever seen any heist movie ever, you’re likely familiar with the long con. Designed, as the name implies, for long term implementation, the “long con” is some form of deceit that sets up over month or years, truly earning the victim’s trust. Perhaps it’s the shifty troublemaker who superficially befriends an old wealthy woman, convincing her to leave all of worldly possessions to him when she inevitably passes away. Perhaps, in a nutshell, it’s parenting.
Boone has all of the potential to be an amazing human adult someday. He’s kind, he’s smart, he’s funny. But right now, he’s also six. And stubborn. And strong-willed. And truly lacking in the focus department. We, as parents, fight battles with our kids everyday, and sometimes we forfeit. Kids refusing to wear pants? Hey, if we’re aren’t planning on leaving the house anyway; fine, go and be free. I’ve also been known to occasionally turn a blind eye (or ear) to the verbal explosion of potty words. The old saying is true: pick your battles.
But parents, sweet parents, you know as well as I do that we cannot constantly wave the white flag.
A few weeks ago I was flying solo at church with my boys. My husband works a lot of weekends, so this isn’t particularly unusual. But on this Sunday, I was scheduled to sing with the praise band. Before I can continue, can I just say? I love singing with the praise band. I love adding harmonies to songs of praise and watching the congregation engage in the worship experience. But when I sing, I want to be fully present. And this Sunday a few weeks ago… I couldn’t be. Boone and Jonah ran around wildly while I tried to rehearse. I worried about them instead of letting the words of praise wash over my soul. When I could finally bring Jonah to his classroom, I thought things would improve. But instead, Boone continued to run around. To complain. To distract. I threatened to take away his screen time for the day — it made no impact. I tried to reason with him — to absolutely no avail. So I took away his beloved, newly purchased, hot-item-of-summer, the fidget spinner. I put it in my back pocket while he whined and protested. I was tempted to just give it back and say “fine, THIS IS YOUR LAST CHANCE, TAKE THE %$*#ING FIDGET SPINNER” (because I, a loving Christian mom, am not above swearing through clenched teeth in church, but Jesus loves me). But I didn’t. I left Boone with my friends who probably deserve a medal and I went on stage to sing.
God… I prayed, this… sucks.
You won this one, He responded, so keep going.
I won?! I’m seriously worried Boone will rush the stage for the beloved fidget spinner while I’m trying to lead the church in worship. I do NOT feel like the winner here.
He’s sitting with friends. They will watch him. I will watch him too. Just focus on me.
And this is when I realized the children aren’t raised in a day. Bad behaviors aren’t corrected once and then forever perfect. I stood on the stage and sang “Holy Spirit, you are welcome here,” but I knew the Holy Spirit was already present, watching over my moody kid. And when I sang the line “your glory, God, is what our hearts long for / to be overcome by your presence, Lord,” I was, completely, overcome. When I sat back down, I felt the fidget spinner in my back pocket. I understood that the long con of parenting is simply soldiering on, day after day, because children grow up. Through correction and discipline, even when we feel like they aren’t reachable, they learn. They absorb. It is our resposibility to keep aiming to win the battles we can, but also to realize that even when we cannot, parenting is a long game.
We probably won’t see the final version of our kids, even if we watch them get married and start families of their own. We are all constantly adapting and evolving, or we should be. But if we color whatever phase of parenting we are in with the thought that it is not a quick fix, I think we’ll realize the long game really is the way to go.
Don’t let the hard days of parenting be the only ones you remember. Instead, see the difficult days as stepping stones in a part of the long con – the con to turn your crazy kids into tolerable human beings.
You were a crazy kid once.
Somebody long-conned you good.
Pass it on.