In studying my own blurred boundaries, there has been one major issue nagging at me, begging to be written. This is the issue of teaching boundaries to my children. I want to first address the reason we, as parents, should feel compelled to help our kids become competent at constructing and maintaining boundaries. (My next boundary-related blog post will focus on how to do so.) Cloud & Townsend (1992) said it best: “Of all the areas in which boundaries are crucially important, none is more relevant than that of raising children. How we approach boundaries and child rearing will have enormous impact on the characters of our kids. On how they develop values. On how well they do in school. On friends they pick. On whom they marry. And on how well they do in a career” (p.168).
As a compliant person, who fears telling others “no,” I also fear I am creating kids who will imitate my behavior and thereby struggle with their school or career performance and relationships. Admittedly, I have been a pretty controlling parent, expecting exact and prompt obedience from my children. There are some benefits to this training—such as during times of emergency and during, well, other times of, say, an emergency. Yeah, pretty much, I realize that in teaching my children to obey regardless of their desires or preferences, I am teaching them to be just like me. “When parents teach children that setting boundaries or saying no is bad, they are teaching them that others can do with them as they wish. They are sending their children defenseless into a world that contains much evil. … To feel safe in an evil world, children need to have the power to say things like: ‘No,’ ‘I disagree,’ ‘I will not,’ ‘I choose not to,’ ‘Stop that,’ ‘It hurts,’ ‘It’s wrong,’ ‘That’s bad,’ ‘I don’t like it when you touch me there.’ Blocking a child’s ability to say no handicaps that child for life. Adults with handicaps … [don’t] say no to bad things” (Cloud & Townsend, 1992, p.50).
I remember a time in my parenting when I understood this better. My oldest was young, maybe one or two years old. A relative tried to coerce my son into giving them a hug and a kiss as we left their home, and he didn’t want to. The whole situation made me uncomfortable for several reasons: 1) I wanted this relative to feel close to and have a loving relationship with my son, 2) I wanted my son to love and feel close to this relative, and 3) I believed instinctively if a child were compelled to show affection to any adult they could become an easy target for a sexual predator in the future.
The scenario of the family member demanding the affection, my son throwing a fit and trying to get away, gave me such anxiety. Some moms are overprotective about germs, demanding that friends and family members sanitize their entire bodies before coming into contact with their child. Some moms are overprotective about physical danger, not allowing their child to even leave the house without a helmet and every square inch of their limbs Velcroed with padded gear. And then, some moms are overprotective about emotional danger caused by pedophiles and perverts, not allowing their child to have sleep-overs and giving the “good touch/bad touch” lesson on a weekly basis. That mom would be me. Sadly, I have virtually stolen the strongest protection I could have given my sons in this regard: the ability to say “no.”
In Proverbs 22:6 it reads: “Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it.” However, according to Cloud & Townsend (1992), “Many parents misunderstand this passage. They think ‘the way he should go’ means ‘the way we, the parents think he (or she) should go.’ … The verse actually means ‘the way God has planned for him (or her) to go.’ In other words, good parenting isn’t emotionally bludgeoning the child into some clone or ideal of the perfect child. It’s being a partner in helping young ones discover what God intended for them to be and helping them reach that goal” (p.62-63).
The task of helping my boys discover God’s plan for them seems nearly impossible when I realize that I have no clue what God wants me to be. It reminds me of the time I helped coach a little league basketball team. A friend, and highly-skilled basketball player, had signed up to coach a little league boys’ basketball team. He realized, because of his work responsibilities, he wouldn’t be able to attend every practice or game, and asked if I would help coach. For anyone who knows me, this scenario is fairly comical, since I am one of the most uncoordinated, un-athletic people in the world (I trip over invisible lines). In fact, the likelihood that any of the ten-year-old boys I was coaching could beat me was virtually guaranteed. However, I was eager to help out my friend and hoped the saying, “Those who can’t do, teach,” would apply in a positive way.
In the end, my friend only made it to a few of the practices and games. My sister, who is only slightly less uncoordinated than I, helped me make sure we were following the rules and giving the kids equal playing time. Sadly, our team lost every game. It was rough. Some might say we were stacked with a group of unskilled and uncoordinated players. However, I prefer to blame the coach: me. While I had a basic knowledge of the rules of basketball (I had even played little league ball as a kid), knowledge of rules isn’t equivalent to having an understanding of skill development, comprehending offensive/defensive strategy, or realizing what natural talents each player possessed and helping to hone them. And, that’s exactly how I feel about helping my children through this journey of life.
Often, it seems I am coaching them alone, helping them to do the drills of praying, reading scriptures, going to church – the same drills I ran as a child – and they still might lose the game, either because I am too uncoordinated and inconsistent or because I lack crucial knowledge to help them be successful … Eventually, I realize I am not coaching them alone, because I have a myriad of family, friends, and church members helping me out. Moreover, I remember how blessed I am to have someone more knowledgeable than I who is really the one running the drills, sharing the rule book, and calling the plays.
One of my biggest boundary issues with my children is that I lack consistency, especially with my youngest. Cloud & Townsend (1992) would point out that when “parents combine strict and lax limits, [they are] sending conflicting messages to children. The children don’t know what the rules of family and life are” (p.80). I know I was much more consistent with my oldest children, but when number three came along and I didn’t grow a third arm, it seems I lost my ability to follow through. Consequences became either vague threats or inappropriately harsh. The poor boy doesn’t know when it’s safe to do anything, because, for example, sitting on the counter top is okay on one day and the next day it’s not. The “counter top” could be a metaphor for just about everything with this kid! “Good child rearing involves both preventive training and practice, and correctional consequences” (p.171). In other words, discipline. “The positive facets of discipline are proactivity, prevention, and instruction” (p.170).
“Discipline is an external boundary, designed to develop internal boundaries in our children. It provides a structure of safety until the child has enough structure in his character to not need it. Good discipline always moves the child toward more internal structure and more responsibility” (p.171).
Unfortunately for my boys, I have done little to teach them discipline; instead I have taught them to fear punishment. “Punishment is paying for wrongdoing. Legally, it’s paying a penalty for breaking the law. Punishment doesn’t leave a lot of room for practice, however. It’s not a great teacher. … Punishment does not leave much room for mistakes. … Discipline is not payment for a wrong. It’s the natural law of God: our actions reap consequences” (p.171, 172). It is time for me to determine the natural consequences involved with my sons' behavior and allow them to learn from their experiences where appropriate. It’s not like my kids are out killing people or burning down buildings and need punishment. However, we have our share of lying and hitting—both, which could easily be seen as punishable, but that will not teach them anything. I need to allow the consequences to teach.
Today in church, the women's lesson was about the joy of working hard. One mother talked about how they used the concept of service not only to reframe work or chores, but also in the process of forgiveness. For example, if one of her kids had hurt (emotionally, physically, or otherwise) a sibling, the sibling who had been hurt was encouraged to do a secret act of service for the offending child (such as make his/her bed, fold clothes, etc.). This softened the hearts of both children—but more so the child who had been offended. This approach reminded me of a former student talking about conflict in his home. His parents’ solution was to sit the two fighting children together on one step of the stairway, where they were made to either hug or hold hands. They were not allowed to leave the step until they had resolved the issue, and once it was resolved, they were to leave it at the stairs. He said at first they sat there for long periods of time, each refusing to work through the anger or frustration. Eventually, however, they learned to work through conflict quickly, communicating openly, and he said they always felt increased love for the other.
Now, I’m not so sure I would have performed well in either household—being the stubborn soul I am, I imagine if I were compelled to do service for my sister with whom I’d just gotten in a fight, I might plant a few forks under her bed covers. And, if I had to sit and "hug it out" with my brother, it’s likely we would have either sat there until we fell asleep or one of us ended up needing medical attention. Maybe I underestimate the power of these methods. I also imagine, if I were hugging it out with someone, it could quickly turn comedic, and laughter is good medicine no matter what the conflict.
But, back to boundaries (maybe I never left). Cloud & Townsend (1992) also point out that, “Boundaries are our way of protecting and safeguarding our souls. … And skills such as saying no, telling the truth, and maintaining physical distance need to be developed in the family structure to allow the child to take on the responsibility of self-protection” (p.173). When it comes to a child and his physical space (even his body), he needs to have to power to say “no” or “enough is enough.” How many times were we tickle-tortured as children, and truly it was torture, to the point of crying or, worse even, wetting our pants? I was tickled so much by “loving” uncles, aunts, cousins, and others that I am hardly ticklish anymore. When I was first married, my husband tried to tickle me and instead of eliciting a fun and playful response, he was met with anger, bordering on violence. When we had our own children, I was diligent about respecting my sons’ “no” when it came to tickling, often playing the referee and calling “time-out” on the tickler, making sure they realized my boys were no longer enjoying the game. However, just because I allowed my sons to say no in this instance, doesn’t mean I had taught them to really be responsible for themselves.
In Boundaries, the story of two boys, Jimmy and Paul, gave me as close to a crystal ball look into my sons’ future as I think I can get:
Jimmy’s family allowed disagreements between parent and child and gave him practice in the skill of boundary setting, even with them. … he could say no. This little word gave him a sense of power in his life. It took him out of a helpless or compliant position. … [he had] permission to disagree. … they never withdrew or punished him for disagreeing. Instead, they would listen to his reasoning, and, if it seemed appropriate, they would change their minds. If not, they would maintain their boundaries. Jimmy was also given a vote in some family matters. … He didn’t fear abandonment in standing up against his friends. He’d done it many times successfully with his family with no loss of love. (p.174-175)
[Paul’s] mom would be hurt and withdraw and pout. She would send guilt messages. … to have his way, he had to be externally compliant. He developed a strong yes on the outside … Whatever he thought about a subject … he stuffed inside. … Day by day, Paul was being trained to not set limits. As a result of his learned boundarylessness, Paul seemed to be a content, respectful son. … Resentment and the years of not having boundaries were beginning to erode the compliant, easy-to-live-with false self he’d developed to survive. (p.175)
The word that stands out in Paul’s story is “seemed.” I don’t want my sons to “seem” to be content or respectful, I want them to truly be happy, to respect other’s opinions, but also to respect themselves enough to stand up for what they believe.
I have to get a handle on my own boundaries, so I can help my sons to be successful in setting their own, because “the second fruit of boundary development in our children [is]: the ability to take ownership of, or responsibility for, our own needs. God intends for us to know when we’re hungry, lonely, in trouble, overwhelmed, or in need of a break – and then to take initiative to get what we need” (p.176). I think I have trained my boys, especially my oldest, to be better at recognizing and accommodating the needs of others than recognizing their own needs. For example, my two youngest had expressed a desire to go hang out one afternoon with their dad. My oldest hadn’t said much, so I decided to figure out what he was thinking.
“Did you want to go with your dad, too?”
He nodded sheepishly, and cautiously said, “Yes.”
Concerned, I continued, “Then why didn’t you say you wanted to?”
“Because,” he explained, “I didn’t want you to be left all alone … really, it’s okay, Mom. I don’t need to go. I will just stay and hang out with you.”
I was filled with mixed emotions. First, I felt a great love because of the tenderness of my son, who was more concerned with his mom’s feelings than with himself. He wasn’t playing the martyr, he was sincere in his love and worry. Second, I felt intense guilt that I had betrayed him in some way, leading him to think he couldn’t do what he wanted because he had an obligation to me. Of course, I reassured him I would be fine and that he could go or stay; whatever he wanted. Ultimately, the outing with Dad didn’t happen, so the choice never had to be made.
“Our limits create spiritual and emotional space, a separateness, between ourselves and others. This allows our needs to be heard and understood. Without a solid sense of boundaries, it becomes difficult to filter out our needs from those of others. There is too much static in the relationship. When children can be taught to experience their own needs, as opposed to those of others, they have been given a genuine advantage in life. They are able to better avoid the burnout that comes from not taking care of one’s self. … The best thing a parent can do is to encourage verbal expression of those needs, even when they don’t ‘go with the family flow.’ When children have permission to ask for something that goes against the grain – even though they might not receive it – they develop a sense of what they need” (p.177).
I believe this “going against the grain” also includes emotions. Often, we tell our children they are not allowed to feel a certain way about something—maybe not directly, but we tell them to “stop crying, quit being a baby, not to get so upset, change the attitude, stop whining, calm down, mellow out, watch the tone, smile, laugh” … the list could probably fill an entire page. Just because we tell them to feel a certain way (positive or negative) doesn’t mean they do, and them pretending they do is only aiding their acting (and lying) skills. This is something I need to be better about; I need to allow my sons to feel however they feel about life, and then seek to understand why they feel that way.
So, why teach children boundaries? I think this question can be summed up with one quote: “Developing boundaries in young children is that proverbial ounce of prevention. If we teach responsibility, limit setting, and delay of gratification early on, the smoother our children’s later years of life will be. The later we start, the harder we and they have to work” (p.170).
And, ain’t that the truth? This is hard work.
