on resentment

I am reading an amazing thread on the Radical Unschoolers Network that started out as a discussion called "children 'need you to make choices for them'" and quickly morphed into some fantastic insights by some extremely articulate individuals on moms resenting doing chores. Also discussed are conventional parenting and subsequent 'withdrawals' by the parent, used later to 'bargain' for a behavioural change in the child. Below are the excerpts that speak to me the most:

"Conventional parenting wisdom -- which is the parenting most of us are familiar with -- leans toward getting the child to see the error of his ways. To the child that feels like the parent saying "I don't care what you want [the reason for hitting]. I only care what I want [to make you stop being bad].

Unschooling wisdom would, of course, stop the hitting, but focus on finding a better approach to help the child get what they wanted that caused them to hit. (Even better is being present to reroute situations before they get to the hitting point.)

Most people reading don't know that. Most people are reading to find ways to control an action. (Because, without realizing it, that's the foundation of the parenting they've always known.) It's not easy to turn thinking around. It's hard to let go of the need to punish a child for wrong behavior. It just feels wrong.

We can work at understanding how our kids see the world so that we avoid acting in ways that feel different than what we intend. We can't be perfect, but we can be better and better with awareness. So a lot of discussion has a foundation of helping parents see that kids are reacting rationally to the situation the child perceives, even if the parent thinks the child is being totally unreasonable."


"How do people perceive love? That's an important question to think about. Specifically, how do the other members of your family perceive love? That's more important, in terms of you showing them love, than how you perceive love. One way to communicate love is by doing things for others. When my partner brings me a cup of coffee first thing in the morning, or cleans the kitchen right before I come home from work, he's expressing love to me. For awhile he was all wrapped up in a recording project and stopped bringing me coffee in the morning - I had to consciously remind myself that it wasn't a deliberate act of love-withdrawal on his part, but it hurt my feelings a little, anyway.

I don't expect my kids to have that kind of understanding, yet, though. Heck, some adults don't have that kind of understanding (one of my coworkers suggested I withhold sex in retribution, for instance). So I try to be very careful of things that could seem, from another's perspective, to be acts of love withdrawal. Today, for instance, is the day of my dd's birthday party. She's 8, her actual birthday was yesterday. But she wanted everyone in the family to say: "Happy second day of your birthday" today. We all did (some with prompting) because that's important to her. It helps her feel loved. If one of us refused to say it, for whatever reason, she'd feel less loved today, regardless of any of our actual feelings."

I've found myself feeling very resentful of late. Much of it is tied up with money, specifically our lack of it, due to our recent (mid-September) wedding which included approximately 100 guests and cost a 'pretty penny.' However, much of it is also cultural, and I have been feeling this resentment for 7 years, now. I am an individualistic white North American. I often feel constrained by the role of a parent, the need to continually give and give and give to my kids. The words, above, often help with this. These writers points of view soothe me, make me feel like it is all manageable.

But then I compare my husband to the second writer's partner, and I feel jealous and angry and resentful again. My husband works 40 hours a week in retail. He is constantly on his feet, he does a lot of heavy lifting, and he is constantly having to cater to the demands of a public who believes that "the customer is always right," despite the fact that corporate law suggests corporations have far more power than people in our society. He commutes by bus, which often takes an hour and a half to travel what is normally a 30 minute drive.

I, on the other hand, do not have a regular job. I am a student. I commute twice a week, in my car, to a campus about 45 minutes away. There, I participate in stimulating courses of my own choosing, and I work minimally as a research assistant, less than 10 hours a week. The rest of the time I spend at home, reading, writing papers, and researching interesting ideas. Still this is draining work. As well, it is expected by my professors and the institution that I will spend 2 to 3 hours studying per hour of class time. That puts me to about 30 hours a week, all of which is extremely draining. Intellectual work is still work.

Plus, I am primarily responsible for the children, for all driving (my husband doesn't know how to drive), errands, grocery shopping, cooking, bill paying. I am responsible for most of the cleaning. My husband is responsible for doing the laundry, yet every week I have to ask him to do this, and then I have to remind him to take the clothes out of the washing machine and put them in the dryer. If I don't remind him to take them out of the dryer, they will sit there for days.

I feel like a domestic slave, and thus I feel angry and resentful. I feel that my academic pursuits are not considered as valuable as a "real" job. I feel that my real value is tied up in the domestic, unpaid labour I provide for my family.

I want to be able to approach this without anger and resentment. I want to come from nothing, so as to create a solution that isn't transactional, that isn't based on bargaining and withdrawals. So far, the only thing that works is to express my frustration and resentment and leave it with the kids or my husband. I usually see a difference for a very short period of time (a week with my husband, maybe an hour or so with my kids). They get it in the moment, however, they seem unable to maintain this.

This is an uncomfortable place for me. I want to be valued, and I want compassion. I want my family to demonstrate their love for me. Instead, I have to operate from the knowledge that, despite their actions, they do love me.

Still, I wish I could go on strike.