Staying Sane While Raising Children

By Jacob Doran

of the WSN

I recently spoke to a friend from out of state who is attempting to make the adjustment of being a father to his very first child, who is incidentally a boy. He sounded a bit frazzled, when we talked. Although I attempted to encourage him with some wisdom that my wife and I have accrued over the past several years, I couldn’t help but laugh within myself as I remembered feeling the exact same way.

My first child was also a boy. In fact, on a scale of 1 to 10, I would have to say that he was 110 percent boy. Even if that doesn’t add up, numerically, anyone who has ever parented a boy who does not run down until an hour and a half after you put him to bed on a good day will identify with what I’m saying.

Before he could walk, Elijah could climb. Just before he turned a year old, he had figured out how to climb into his pack-n-play, when we were traveling. Not long after that, he learned how to climb out of his crib at home. Actually, he climbed over the side and then jumped. Soon after, he began pushing large objects around the house to build stair steps so that he could climb on top of desks and counters.

It was when we first moved Elijah from the crib that night-time took on a whole new dimension. For Elijah, it was a time to push his mother and myself to the very edge of our sanity. Even after he was settled in bed and had finally—perhaps two hours later—quiet, we couldn’t be sure that he was asleep.

When he began performing commando-style raids on our refrigerator, we became desperate and had to set up a vigil outside of his door. I all but dawned black face-paint and camouflage to sneak into his room and spy on him, which is what I had begun to believe he was doing when Rebekah and I finally retired for the night.

Elijah was one of the smartest children I had ever seen and remains so to this day. He quickly learned how to take things apart, remove heating grates, and get into anything that we attempted to keep him out of—and that was all before he turn two years old. It took nerves of steel to convince him that Mom and Dad were as clever as he was (sometimes, I wasn’t so sure) and would not back down from the rules or boundaries that we had established.

The good news is that our son eventually did learn what those boundaries were and has since grown into a thoughtful four-and-a-half-year-old, whose energy we have learned to channel by keeping him occupied with constructive things, like helping to fold laundry and put away the dishes. Incidentally, he hasn’t even broken any dishes while trying to put them away. He will even pick up his toys and put away his books when told. What’s more, he goes to bed without protest and only comes out from his room once or twice during the night to use the restroom or get a drink of water, without raiding the refrigerator.

The secret, I told my friend, is consistency. If you back down just one time, a strong-willed child will think he’s mastered you. Just one victory in a hundred will make it worth his while.

My wife and I have been blessed with four children. That doesn’t mean that it always feels like a blessing. What is does mean is that life can be pretty frantic, at times. Sometimes, yes, but not all of time.

As I told my friend, once you have a couple of children under your belt—or one strong-willed one—nothing is really new to you any more. It all just more of the same, and you learn to take it in stride. Your children respond better to you, because they know that you are sure of yourself and they see that their older siblings have failed to gain the victory over you, a fact that is quite daunting to those whose are not as strong-willed.

While I am nowhere near experienced enough a parenting to be considered an authority on the subject, I have learned a lot from having four children under the age of five. My friend’s head was spinning as he considered the idea of having four children so close together. I can’t say that my own head doesn’t spin sometimes, when I think about it, but I can honestly say that parenting is more enjoyable now than I ever thought it would be.

I realize that there are probably a couple of hundred women reading this, who are thinking, “That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the mother.”

To this, I would agree, because I know what my wife has gone through at times, while I have been at work. However, even she has said that she enjoys our children more now than she ever has. I often see her stop amid her busy schedule and help the children make a tent out of blankets and chairs. They cook together, clean together, learn together and even play together.

They are still children and require constant supervision, but we have gained their respect as well as their affection because of the time that we have invested in teaching them and making them a part of our lives. They are making the transition from being the self-centered creatures that first came into this world to considerate little human beings who understand that they are part of a family.

I couldn’t count the pairs of fingers nails that my wife and I went through to get to this point, but it sure is nice when you get there. I expect that we will continue to serve as referees for a while, but ever day life become a little more harmonious, and I thank God that it does.

Oh, that reminds me of one other ingredient required in raising well-adjusted children: lots of prayer—for yourself as much as for your children.