Chuckle #425 | October 13th, 2010
I Only Nag You Because I Love You, & Other Lies
I don’t want to be a nag. (And I certainly don’t like BEING nagged.) But despite my best intentions, I find myself doing it. And once I start, I can’t seem to shut myself up.
I like to think that nagging is born of motherly love and not, as my husband claims, of my need to exert complete dictatorial control over my children’s lives. Let’s face it, kids need constant reminding that certain things must get done if they are to realize their full potential and enjoy a future which doesn’t include mom doing their laundry or making their lunch.
For some reason kids insist on calling this pure and selfless expression of motherly love, nagging.
Dads don’t nag, mostly because “nag” also means an old and overworked female horse. It’s therefore unseemly for a man to nag. Most men have learned to endure the chaos of family life in manly silence, even when they trip over stuff left on the mudroom floor.
Dads have brilliantly left the nagging to mom, with it, the role of “bad cop".
So why do people dislike being nagged so much? What distinguishes innocent “reminding” from “nagging”?
Let’s take a moment to define “Nag”…
1. To annoy by constant scolding, complaining, or urging
2. To be a persistent source of anxiety or annoyance.
In a close reading of the Webster’s definition above, the difference appears to be the words “constant”, “persistent”, and “annoy”. Apparently you can “remind” someone to do something once or twice. Do so repeatedly and you have become unbearable.
Another difference is locus. “Reminding” is done at the dinner table during civilized conversation. “Nagging” is done while standing in front of the kids’ favorite TV show.
But moms are at a disadvantage. We are forced to nag because ONE reminder is never enough. If we do not repeat ourselves ad nauseam, then important stuff falls through the cracks. We LOVE our kids too way much to let them suffer the consequences of procrastination. We nag for love. (And for personal hygiene.)
If I did not nag, my kids would NEVER change their sheets. If I did not nag, my son would probably not apply to college. If I did not nag, my children would re-use their dirty underwear and leave their bicycles out in the rain. Who suffers? THEY do. Why can’t my kids seem to understand that I’m only trying to help?
It is very difficult, nay, it is impossible for a woman to stay silent about some things, especially dirty underwear. But are we really helping when we parrot the same demands over and over, only to let our kids slide day after day?
Over time I have learned that nagging only works if it comes with some tough love in the form of really unsettling consequences. For example, “I am removing all the toilet paper from this house until you sign-up for the SATs.” Say it once. Take the paper. Watch for the reaction.
So if you want to be heard (and obeyed), try imposing some compelling consequences along with your gentle “reminders”. Then bite your tongue and be willing to let your kids drop the ball and totally screw-up.
