Camouflage and Stripes

Brendan dressed himself yesterday. I had to step out for a few minutes, and when I got back, he was dressed. My pride at his initiative was quickly followed by a sense of mild horror at his choice of clothing. I may have very little fashion sense, but I do know that camouflage and stripes do not mix! And yet I bit my tongue and resisted the urge to make him change. Maybe it was nothing. I mean, kids get dressed every day, right? And eventually they do need to learn how to pull together an outfit that doesn't leave everyone snickering. But to me, more was at stake yesterday.

First of all, I felt it was important to reward the fact that he got off his skinny little duff and got himself dressed, without a bit of help or prodding from me. We mothers often undermine our kids unwittingly when they do something that is a stretch for them, and then we come behind and tell them (usually without words) that their effort is not good enough. Why should they bother trying if we are going to come along and undo it?

Secondly, I want my kids to have a feeling of control over their own lives. Of course, that control is limited. At five years old, he is not ready to wander the streets alone. He's not even ready to pick his own bedtime! But kids need to have control over age appropriate things -- like picking out their own clothes. If they are not allowed to make some of their own decisions, they begin to feel like life is happening TO them. A healthy amount of control over one's own decisions leads to empowerment, while being acted upon by "superior beings" leads a child to grow up passive, distrustful of the value of their own thoughts and wishes.

I feel strongly that it is important to empower all children, but it is especially important for mine. With so much of life careening out of control around them, they simply MUST know that they have some power to affect their own lives, that they are not merely plankton, being tossed around in the vast expanse of a merciless sea. And so I try to let the little things go. I let the boy leave the house in camouflage and stripes, praising only his effort, knowing that there will be plenty of days down the road for fashion lessons.