OK, let’s talk about kids. This has been a topic I have avoided over the years, both on the blog and in real life. Unfortunately, I finally realized that I can no longer hide from the fact that I am a parent. There, I said it.
With that realization came the responsibility. These little apprentice humans are looking to me for guidance on the rocky road of this thing called life.
When I was growing up, I had two very loving parents. Never at any moment in my life did I feel the need to question their love. They provided for me, bandaged my boo-boos and made me feel safe. As I thought about my own children (I have something like 2 or 3 at last count!), I realized something that makes me a VERY different parent than my own parents were.
Whereas my mom and dad loved me, they never were my friends. My dad and I had a distant relationship, not physically, but emotionally. That only meant that he was not my buddy. He was my father; a role I understood to be different than that of a friend. I never craved his friendship nor sought him out for advice in times of need. Again, he had a duty as a father…to father and not be my friend.
This is due partially as a response to the Old World mentality of both of my parents. Parents are not friends. Parents are providers. Parents are role models. Parents are there. But my parents were never chummy. My dad never wrapped his giant arms around my shoulders and called me pal. As far as I knew, my dad was not even human….he was simply a father.
But when I had children (don’t ask me why…I am still trying to figure that one out), I thought that I would change all that. I thought that I could be a friend to my children. I am always showing them that too am a human being. I have faults and things scare me and that I am not perfect. I want to share those especially with my 10 year old as he is going through some awkward stages right now. I want to relate to him on his level. I want to get down eye to eye and hold him and tell him I understand what he is going through. I want to tell him that I understand if he doesn’t want to go to school because I sometimes don’t feel like going to work. I want to tell him that I know how it feels when a friend betrays him and that he always has me to turn to. I want to drop to my knees and build a Lego catapult with him and get excited if we can launch one of Nicole’s dolls across the room into the bathroom sink, even if it means knocking over the toothbrushes. I want to share in the wonder of discovery with him. I want him to see me as a partner who is willing to guide as well as willing to be guided. Sometimes I think he gets it. Sometimes I think he thinks I am a little weird.
Question for BoMR (Both of My Readers): What are you doing differently to raise your children than how your parents raised you? What are you doing similarly?