"Chungs Never Give Up."

   There's a reason why people say that parenting just gets harder with time.  When your child is new, you are deprived of sleep and energy just trying to keep your baby alive.  Then come the toddler years when you are cleaning after their constant dribble of bodily fluids and your energy is zapped from ignoring all their temper tantrums.  Then there's preschool time when emotions start getting involved when your feelings actually get hurt when your child directly disobeys you and you have to lay down the law to show who is boss.  Then they start PreK and Kindergarten and then things get intellectual, where you need to outsmart your smarter-than-you child and convince them to do things not just because you said so but because it's the right thing to do.
   Obviously this can't possibly be the worst time - there's always the time in the near future when I can no longer help my kids with their homework or in the very far future when <*gasp*> boys will enter the picture.  I don't even want to think about those teenage years.  But currently, I'm stuck in the here and now - in the early school-age years when the biggest challenge for me is to instill a good foundation of character and values in my little people that will stick with them for years to come.
   How does one actually teach values to little minds?  What is the balance between setting the example and reinforcing by reminding them over and over again?  When does it become nagging and where their little ears begin tuning out your voice even before you open your mouth?  Can they even appreciate, at this young of an age, the meaning of confidence, perseverance, and courage?  And would they recognize it even if they saw it?
   The past few years we've worked on the basics - no lying, no cheating, no stealing (courtesy of West Point's Honor Code) - and I'm pretty sure we got that down pat.  There is no tolerance in our household for any violation of that code, as Kaylee learned at a ripe young age of 4.  

Kaylee's punishment after lying to Mom

But now we are working on other values to instill in our kids - things that both Andy and I like to believe we share in common.  These days, it's been that value of steadfastness and - for lack of a better term - guts.  This in particular has been a challenge to "teach" simply because to some degree, well, you either have it or you don't.  But for two West Point parents to have bred a child without "it" can be a very painful truth to accept, so instead we have parented with a style that just doesn't tolerate the lack of these so-called guts.  We've both been very callous through the years to falls, bumps, and bruises, responding to their cries of pain with some story of how we once got injured when we were kids and never shed a tear and then would ignore their requests for a bandaid.  I repeatedly told them stories of how I missed my hands on the balance beam but yet still got back on it to finish the routine in a competition, or how I got hit in the face with a baseball but never stopped trying to catch, and I even would show them my surgery scars and tell them I was cut open (without mentioning anesthesia) just to get them to shut their whiney mouths about their paper cuts.  But there's only so many stories we can tell, and eventually they will have to figure it out themselves.
   Kaylee learned that the hard way just recently when she crashed her new bike into a tree, badly scraping up her chin.  It took a few weeks, but Andy forced her back on her bike to face her fears, and she eventually passed the very tree that beat her up to ultimately build back that confidence.  I'm so very grateful that she is learning this lesson, one crash at a time.

   Lately Megan has been having a hard time in swimming.  She went from practically doing laps on her back by herself just a few months ago to being completely afraid of the water for the past 2 weeks.  Last Thursday she got a little spooked when her teacher let her get under water when she wasn't expecting it, and since then she has just been plain old frightened.  On Monday, Meg even expressed anxiety at school about her next swim lesson to her teacher and told me for the first time that day after I picked her up, "Mommy, I don't like swimming."  In fact, every day this week she reminded me that she "just doesn't like it", and my response was always the same: "Meg, I know you don't.  It's okay to be scared.  But I need you to try, because once you get it, you will like it.  And plus, our family doesn't give up."  Then on Tuesday it took some convincing to get in the water, and after a pretty decent lesson, I figured she was good to go.  But then today, two days later, it was as if she forgot she had overcome her fears on Tuesday and she had a rough start at today's lesson as well.  I had gone so far as to buy her a new swim suit to give her extra swimming "powers", and I even brought a donut to use as bribery if words alone wouldn't get her in the water.
   I watched carefully tonight as Megan somehow mustered enough courage to get back in the water.  For the next 30 minutes, I could see the anxiety just riding on her face.  She wobbled on the styrofoam noodle, reaching out for her teacher and struggling not to swallow too much water.  She would kick as hard as her feet would let her to just get to the other side, and at any hint of her teacher letting her go she would quickly flip over and grab her teacher's arm.  When on her back, she was pretty much floating on her side and kicking in circles because she was so insecure and wanted to lean in towards the teacher, and I could easily recognize the momentary relief when she would reach the wall and have something to hold onto.  
   At first I admit I was slightly annoyed.  Meg had reverted back and actually gotten worse in swimming, and to me it was silly that she was freaking out when her teacher is obviously holding her.  But when I really looked at her - standing from the bleachers - I could see her little eyes through her foggy goggles - and I saw fear.  It was definitely there, and no matter how silly it was to me, to her it was a very real, raw emotion.  Throughout the entire lesson, her expression never changed - she was terrified, but yet she managed to keep herself together and just push through it.  I was amazed - by changing the way I looked at the situation, my feelings went from annoyed to instant pride.  This thing called "guts" - my kid already has it.  She probably always had, but I just never gave her credit for it.
   When Megan came out of the water, she gave her teacher a high-five and she ran over to me smiling. I wrapped her in a towel and gave her a big hug, telling her how proud I was of her for doing it.  I said to her, "See?  Megan, you did a great job!  There's nothing to be afraid of!" to which she responded, "Yeah!  My last name is Chung.  And Chungs never give up!"

   That's right, Megan.  I know next Tuesday for your next lesson, you're going to be afraid again and I will have to remind you once again that you can do this.  But this time, I'll take your words to heart and remember what you said, that Chungs never give up.  So I will never give up on you.