Parenting, Pt. 2

June 9, 2010
Dear Alicia and Jason,
It’s been five years since I wrote you a letter that rambled on and on with some of my random thoughts about parenting. Rowan is five already, and sweet Sayer joined your family a few years ago. You are now four.

After composing those thoughts and sending them to you, so many more came to mind that for weeks I kept a piece of paper in my pocket and took notes toward a second installment. Then life crashed on forward and I never got back to it. Eventually I lost the precious notes and concluded that the second chapter would never be written.

But Ida started her summer babysitting jobs this week, and last night when she came home she said, “Mom, how do people know how to be a parent?” A big and wonderful question, impossible to cover over the supper hour! But as a start, I got out a copy of my letter to you and read it aloud to her. She listened intently, and then she asked for a copy! I stepped back and realized the beauty of the circumstances: Ida is babysitting your Rowan for the summer, this little Ida who is now a young woman, who is wondering about parenting.  In only five years, so much has changed for both girls, and for you and me as well. This reflection caused another flood of experiences and opinions to come to mind, and this time I aim to get some of it on paper before the notes go missing.

Five years ago you signed the agreement stating that I can say these things without fear that you’ll believe I’m stating The Only Way To Parent, so I’ll trust that you still understand that. We’ll let this little paragraph serve as the simple but serious reminder of the fact. To that I’ll add: now you’ve been parents for five years, and you surely have a bushel full of your own ideas and opinions. Even after 20 years of parenting, I remain completely interested in all the variety of good ideas of others. Do you know, sometime during the ‘90s I set out to compile a book of local parenting ideas? In the end all the parents were just too busy to fill out my survey – so I’m left writing up my own, and once again risking that those who read it will perceive wrongly that I think I know how everything must be done. That prospect almost makes me shrink away from the project, but I will proceed nonetheless, hoping that you and anyone else who ready this will cut me some slack.

I am writing here about some of my ideals. As often as not, I did not live up to them. I still had to keep sight of my ideals, my something to aim for. Some of these ideals came to me as a direct result of a moment in which my parenting was shamefully immature and un-loving. I could tell you lots of stories of all the things the girls and Daniel remember, things I said or did which are embarrassing and even horrifying. Ida tells me that she’ll never forget the time I intensely threatened her and Sophie, during a time when they were arguing and I was fed up with them, saying that I was considering moving up to Roseville (my folks’) and leaving them behind. Could I have said something so cruel and careless? I want to think it’s not true, but Ida’s memory is pretty trustworthy. I humbly report this incident to you along with the good news that both Ida and Sophie seem to have overcome that day as well as many of my other follies.  I still assert the right to bear ideals, no matter how much evidence is revealed to me about my stumbling path to this place.

To begin, then.
   

1.  On Being Perfectly Wrong

The adult world tells children that it is not ok to be wrong. If they are in school, this view is absolutely inescapable, from the very beginning: pretty much everything is framed in terms of whether you get it “right” or “wrong,” even when there aren’t red marks on their papers and grades on their report cards.  You can choose to homeschool, and limit exposure to that destructive way of thinking about learning and living, but even then you have to watch out for your own underground stuff seeping out. You can’t completely get away from it, of course, for we are all of this place and this culture, but you can start to pay attention to the questions: what’s so bad about being wrong? What is learned from being wrong? Why do adults feel it’s important to be right as often as possible? How can we ever find new ways of doing things if we can’t try something new, and how can we try something new if we’re afraid of risking being wrong? Does the need to present oneself as right build community connections? If we wanted to encourage in our children the freedom to feel safe being wrong, how would we do that?

Model the ability to be graciously, curiously, joyfully wrong. Show your interest in what caused this idea, action, or attitude to not work, and show that whether or not it worked has nothing to do with your goodness or lovability. Then the children will grow up to be inventors, heroes, Buddhas.

2.  On Food

Everything people say about starting out on the right foot with regard to your family food culture is true. If you want them to eat vegetables and whole grains, feed those to them from the very beginning. Beware, lest you end up with a macaroni and cheese monster.

3. On Selfishness and Jealousy

Good luck teaching them how to deal with selfishness and jealousy.  For these emotions, I can’t imagine a better learning ground for us parents than watching our own dear children suffer through the results when they act out of them.  I’m sorry I don’t have any helpful suggestions here; I just wanted to shine the light on the issue, and say that you’ll learn a lot about your own selfishness and jealousy and ego by watching your darlings. I’m not necessarily saying they are mirroring you! – rather, that you can learn a lot about yourself from watching the feelings that rise up in you as you watch them make mistakes and cause pain to themselves and others .

4. A Simple Ritual

The girls and I share a lovely ritual: I take tea at the teahouse with each of them, separately, a few times each year. The official purpose is usually to make plans for the coming school semester: what classes does she want to take, what music lessons, what other stuff does she want to do that I can help set up? In this way we encourage the idea that one needs to look ahead and make plans in order for things to happen, and also that creating a special time for conversation is valid and effective. I also am really happy to report that it’s always been something that we both very much look forward to – there has never been a sense that this was an obligatory, unpleasant parent-child meeting.

Meeting at a special place is really different from sitting down together at home – we’re much more likely to get our agenda talked through, plus more stuff that comes up because we are having this specially-planned time, both orderly and creative. Personal questions come up, and are more likely to be answered because of the special environment. We practice the art of civilized, mature conversation. I model what I want them to know: the ebb and flow of topics, the back and forth of listening and talking. And the taking of notes where pertinent!

5. On Preserving Hope

They are growing up in a world in which it is hard to avoid news about global warming, oil spills, wars, and lots of hatred. I have a strong opinion about parenting in this climate: protect them from these stories as much as you can, for a long time. I’ve seen parents who offer too much bad news to their children at too young an age, and it can cause the children to be frightened, confused, hopeless, bitter, angry, and cynical. They will learn of these things soon enough; when they are young, let them learn to cherish the world, to see the best in it, so that they will want to protect it. Let them grow up with a joyful vision shaped by their own beautiful imagination, not warped by all the darkness. I’m no expert on cognitive development, but isn’t it easy to see that a nine year old shouldn’t be saddled with huge burdens that they have no power to affect, such as mountaintop removal or an oil spill or even the hatred some people have for the sexual identity of others? Better to simply live-out-loud the normalcy of your beloved gay friends, and the beauty of the mountain, and the story of the whales. Sometime down the road they will learn the other parts of those stories; they will be outraged, and they will be outspoken about the way it’s supposed to be. 

6. On Praise

When Sophie was a baby I read part of the book “Whole Child, Whole Parent.” There was a section that had a huge impact on me, about the practice of praising children. I read it and immediately knew it to be true from my own experience as a child, and ever since then have not praised my children or others.

It said: imagine that you are a little girl sitting alone making a painting. You are completely engrossed: you are humming, you have no sense of time or the space around you, your tongue is hanging out, you are one with this painting. Then an adult comes along and says “I really like your painting, Suzie!”

The trance is broken. But what’s worse, this well-meaning adult has now thrust a mirror between you and your painting; you are caused to look at yourself, the maker of this thing that caused someone to praise you. The magic connection between you and your painting is gone; now it is about what the adult thinks, and needing (if not the first time, then surely eventually after some years of receiving praise) for the adult to like your painting. Why would it ever matter whether the adult likes your painting or not? Why does the adult think it should matter to you?

Sophie and Ida are now 20 and 18. At some point when Sophie was in her mid-teens, she asked me about this subject; she had noticed that our family was different with regard to this issue of praise (along with a few others). I told her the story of the mirror, and she understood. She admitted that she had sometimes heard others being praised by their parents and felt awareness that she didn’t receive that, and thought it might feel good, and wouldn’t have minded a little praise… but she said that overall she thought my explanation made sense. And I do feel that both girls have a confidence in their capabilities that comes from the best, most reliable place – their own perception.

I don’t mean to imply that I never said anything nice to them about themselves; only that when I did, I tried to frame it in terms of the effect their action had on me, or the general wonderfulness of all of us humans: “Thank you for taking care of me while I was sick, Ida – it felt so wonderful to be massaged and sung to!” (rather than “you were such a good nurse yesterday – maybe you will grow up to be Mother Teresa or a doctor someday.”) Or, “I’m so glad I got to come to the dance performance, Sophie – I always learn so much when I come to these performances. Sometimes it makes me cry, it’s so beautiful, and sometimes I’m bewildered by what’s going on…” (rather than, “Wow, you were great, once again! How did you get so talented, girl?”)

7.  On Parenting Other People’s Children

I’m sorry to have to write this one. I wish I had figured it out differently, but I didn’t and now it’s too late so all I can report is what I learned:

Don’t question another parent’s choices in parenting their child, or report about something their child did that you think needs to be addressed, or enter into ANY conversation, EVER, about anything remotely negative-seeming about their child. It’s not worth it, ever. The chance that they will take offense are about…99%. I suppose it’s natural: if they don’t stand up for their child, who will? And parenting is challenging enough, without some know-it-all friend who can’t possibly see the whole story trying to tell you how to do it. Even if Sally DID scream obscenities at a child when she was at your house, and pinch him and hit him and punch you, don’t try to address it with her parents. Instead, find a backdoor way of not having Sally over very much. Can you believe I’m writing this? I know it is cowardly and even dishonest, but trust me – a different choice can be very, very painful and destroy adult friendships. That’s all the farther I got with this one. Maybe someday when we’re all a little more evolved away from our egos it’ll be a different story. Maybe your generation is already a little better…I’m just telling you the facts of the ‘90s. 

8.  On Poetry

Let’s talk about something sweeter and lighter!
Read poetry at the supper table, and when you go on picnics. Make reading poetry together into a normal aspect of your very special lives. Put poems on the walls, in your own handwriting. The bathroom walls are an especially good place, because they are so regularly visited.

Such simple ideas, they’re almost not worthy of mention – but the children won’t grow up to love poems just because you want them to. You have to take action – not once, but over and over throughout the years, in a variety of ways.  Then, even if they never take a great poetry class, they will still have poems as their friends; and even if they take a terrible poetry class, they will still have poems as their friends. The way I see it, the mystery of words in poems is one perfect way to touch God. A really fine gift, for free.

9.  On Language and Gender

I was raised in a household that paid attention to the subliminal messages we convey about our worldview through our choices of words. For example, we were right there in the ‘70s when many Christians began to use inclusive language to name God, and we watched as our intentional use of non-gendered god-words reshaped our very image of that Being. I’m grateful for that background in understanding the way our words create reality, and I know that I need to be ever mindful of this. Recently this has manifest in a new awareness that about gender and language.

For example, there are a number of gay and lesbian couples in our neighborhood and in other parts of our lives. I’ve noticed that straight people sometimes feel compelled to identify them as “the gay couple….” – however lovingly and full of acceptance, still they need to add that identifier. I have resisted that impulse, feeling it at the least unnecessary and at worst somehow indicative that we still have a long way to go until we stop needing to identify people by their sexual orientation. I asked some Lesbian friends what they thought about all of this. They said that either way works – to name the person’s orientation or not – as long as you are consistent: if you identify a couple’s gayness, then also when you’re talking about a straight couple go ahead and say that. It makes a lot of sense, and I’m glad to have learned this new way of thinking about it. Sophie and Ida have watched this journey, and thought a lot about it themselves over the last few years as they took gender studies classes, and I think we have laid groundwork in all of us for openness to changes we can make in our language to bring more peace and inclusion to the world. 

Another tip from my wise friends: When addressing a group, if inclined to say, for example, “Ladies and Gentlemen!” go ahead and add “And Everybody Else!” to include anyone who might not feel welcomed by the first two descriptors: people who are bi-sexual, trans-sexual, or…anything else!

10.  On Making Comparisons

Parents and other adults often do this crazy, unhelpful thing: they compare and contrast siblings, naming interests and qualities as if they could be permanently possessed by one and only one. “Tanya is my outdoor girl, my tomboy. Olaf, he is my bookworm.” Well, I guess that means Tanya’s got the outdoor thing all tied up and there’s no room for Olaf in the woods, and Tanya might have to sneak in a read, since she’s not “the bookworm?” Why do we parents think we have to name such things? Surely it comes from a loving instinct: we want to encourage this child to do what she loves, and we feel that we can do that by naming and affirming her love in the presence of others. But again, this puts a mirror between her and her passion. It also causes her to feel that this interest is an obligation – now she has been labeled “the tomboy”, and must uphold it. What if she wants to play with paperdolls, and society has already taught her that tomboys don’t play with paperdolls? Well, then she mustn’t and she won’t.

11.  On Weariness

I was tired a lot. Are you tired a lot? Remember when you thought that once they slept through the night you would feel more normal? When I see photos of myself from the last 20 years, I can always see that tired look in my eyes, no matter how happy the occasion. So I guess I didn’t ever get that one figured out either, and have no advice to offer.  I was happy though. I think I survived it ok, and I think you can too, but I hope you can find a way to not be weary as often.

12.  On Parents Speaking with One Voice

I’m sure that you have often heard this advice: on questions and decisions pertaining to their children, parents should present a unified front. They should voice the same opinions, whether they really share them or not. I think that in many cases this is false and impossible, and the children can see right through it, later if not sooner.

As a child I regularly witnessed my parents holding different opinions (mom was generally more strict, dad more lax) and witnessing that very normal reality provided me with the perspective that there is more than one good way to act toward someone you love. I never felt like one parent loved me more than the other, even though one was more strict. They balanced each other out.

I’m talking here about mundane daily decisions, such as, “Can I sleep at Sally’s tonight?” and “Can I skip my chores this morning so I can go for a walk?” I imagine there is a threshold that any parenting couple finds, where the decisions shouldn’t be considered a big deal. Bigger ones, like how to be consistent when disciplining a 2 year old or what course of education to follow in the coming year, would be harder to decide unilaterally – though in many cases, a couple will naturally ‘choose’ one of them to be the leader on certain kinds of decisions.

I agree with the experts of course that parents mustn’t put their kids in the middle of a disagreement, mustn’t make them the pawn of their own opinions. A child shouldn’t be asked to take sides in an argument of their parents, and even when they are teens and could easily do so I find that they know to not do that. But for a kid to grow up recognizing that one parent will answer one way and the other answer another way, and navigate their asking accordingly?  I see no harm in it – it’s the way of the world. Different people see things differently. It is important of course that both the ‘winning’ and ‘losing’ parent be a good sport and recognize the relative insignificance of this specific decision.

Why not use these differences of opinion to present the children with the opportunity to witness something beautiful: the mutual respect and flexibility of these two people that love each other and love the child, and that our differences are nothing to be afraid of?

 13. On Favorites and Judgments

I wonder when it was in our cultural history that we began asking each other what our favorite of anything and everything is: what was your favorite class this year? Who’s your favorite friend? What’s your favorite memory from camp?

On the one hand, I can see this form of asking as nothing more than a simple way to make conversation, to ask for some reflection within boundaries (rather than” Tell me about everything that happened today, Jonny!”) It goes hand-in-hand with the other question we parents ask kids: “How did it go? Did you like it?” We’re just curious, and besides that’s how our parents probably asked us about our day.

But these types of questions unfairly ask the child to judge a whole experience – to sum it up with a thumbs up or thumbs down, or to choose the “best” (most favorite) aspects. Isn’t there another way we could ask them to share some of their thoughts, questions that wouldn’t ask for a wholesale judgment of “how it was?” I’m sure we can think of ways, once we begin to try. Really all we’re trying to do is engage in conversation, so the specific entry point doesn’t matter. “Who all was there today?”, “Did the weather hold out?”, “Did you learn a new fact you can educate me about?” or “Did Suzie and Sally get along better today?” all invite responses that are based on observation but not judgment. The conversation may well lead into more reflection on her feelings about it, and maybe even judgments – but as parents we should avoid setting up every experience as something that the child is expected to judge.

 14.   On Life Sentences

A wise homeschooling parent once said to me, “Adults shouldn’t try to turn a child’s passing interest into a life sentence.” Who hasn’t seen overly enthusiastic parents do this to their children, and even felt in themselves the impulse to seize the moment, do everything possible to help a young passion become a life’s calling?

I tried to adopt this philosophy of non-attachment to a child’s interests and it guided me to refrain from announcing what Sophie or Ida was good at, or what they might become. I tried to stick with the facts: Ida is interested in midwifery, she makes chocolates, she makes art. Sophie is attending dance classes, studying piano and makes art. Never something that claims an interest as belonging to one person, or assumes they ARE that interest, such as “Sophie is our piano player, Ida the artist and midwife.” This left them free to explore whatever they wanted, even if their sister already did it, and also left them free to move on to another interest without fear of disappointing the adults.

15. On Money and Consuming

Here’s something really unusual! This practice is surprising to me still, even though I was first introduced to it before the girls were born. The idea came from a chance conversation with young man, a Luther student who was a customer at the co-op at the time when it was next to the museum office, near Mill and Water St. He told me that ever since he could remember, he, not his parents, had bought his own clothing. I was shocked and thought it really odd – even cruel! – of his parents; but he seemed to think it was perfectly normal, and not difficult in the least. I even remember thinking, outrageously, “well, maybe that would be ok for a boy; he must not have had very much interest in how he looked, must not have had much love for clothes.” Yes, I admit that I thought that. At the time I was sure that I knew everything I needed to know in order to have a correct conclusion about it all.

Pretty soon I had these two girls to clothe. During their first 6-10 years the girls mostly wore hand-me-downs so the question of who paid for clothing was moot (aside from some very special and appreciated gifts of clothing from relatives!) We kept hand-me-downs that were too big, and also off-season clothing, in big tins up in the garage, and twice a year we went “shopping” together: with a screwdriver in hand, we walked up to the garage on a warm day and pried each tin open to see what treasures it held. Then we took our “purchases” down to the front yard and laid them out in the sun to make them smell better. For a long time, this was perfectly enough.

Eventually the gravy train of hand-me-downs got shorter, and we began to take occasional trips to the Depot to look for clothes. The girls were amazed at the abundance of possibilities under that one roof, and of course wanted to take home many things. They didn’t yet grasp that each item needed to be paid for, and then washed and folded and picked up from the floor many, many times. Without even giving it much thought at the moment, I told them that they would be paying for this clothing with their own money. All of a sudden it made so much sense; for how else would they come to understand the reason that we weren’t going to buy everything they wanted?

As I experimented with my parenting questions about consumerism, ownership, and money, I hadn’t forgotten the story of that Luther student. On the contrary, I’d say it’s almost embarrassing how much I thought about what he’d told me. I guess I had a lot of money issues to work through. Who doesn’t?

I remember going with my mom or dad to buy new clothes for me at Target or HarMar Mall in Roseville. I loved that special feeling of anticipation, knowing that I was about to get something new and beautiful to wear: an Easter dress, some new school clothes, a plastic art apron. It felt like a sweet and important ritual of childhood, even a birthright…I’m sure that’s why I was so shocked at the Luther student’s story. But I’m really glad to have been handed this other way of thinking about it, because it turns out that it fit better with the way I wanted Sophie and Ida to grow up. Now these two girls do not consider abundant and ever-changing clothes and styles a birthright, and they don’t take beautiful clothes for granted. They have always bought their own clothes and they consider that normal. I think that the practice of making those decisions for themselves has helped shape not only their independence but also their sense of themselves as conscious consumers.

16.  On Allowance

I had a few good ideas about this topic, surely gathered from some book I read, and we practiced them for a while but weren’t organized enough to sustain them throughout the girls’ growing up. But here’s what I remember:

        Allowance shouldn’t be connected to work done to help around home. Helping is a normal expectation, everyone does it, and it is not paid work.
        A portion of allowance is required to be set aside to give to others in need. We had a cup on the kitchen table, and when allowance was given, each girl set 50 cents into the cup. Daniel and I also put money in the cup. Every once in a while we had a conversation at dinner about where we would send our $20-$30; I would tell them about some good organizations and the work they were doing somewhere in the world, near or far. In this way I was able to introduce them to both their responsibility to help others financially, and to the brave work of their brothers and sisters.
        Make the allowance big enough that they can actually buy worthwhile things with it, rather than giving only enough for (for example) random junk food. Then, require that they spend that money for certain things they really value, such as music, clothes, pets.
        There was also an idea about requiring that 1/3 of each allowance be put in the bank. What a good idea! But in order to do that I thought we’d need to give the girls something like $15-$20/week, and I couldn’t stomach that amount.

Though we lived frugally and required Sophie and Ida to pay for most material possessions (clothes, toys, gifts, etc), we rarely turned down any request to pay for experiences: lessons, concerts, festivals, classes, camps.

17.  On the Infallibility of Adults

In the part of the world where I grew up during the ’60s and ‘70s, adults maintained an image of being completely self-sufficient and almighty. One rarely saw any of them moved to tears, or stressed, or even sad. But my mom cried in front of me sometimes and allowed me to comfort her, and so I grew up with the sense that I was called on to comfort others, even those more grown-up and experienced than I. Because I knew that my mom was sad sometimes and that I could help her, I understood that all of us are vulnerable and all of us are capable of offering comfort.

Therefore I say: Let them see you hurting and let them comfort you. Don’t give them the illusion that adults are infallible or emotionless. Give them a chance to show their compassion, to practice their born impulse to comfort and protect. Let them watch your process of sadness and or anger, even your irrational thoughts, and later make sure to let them see your coming around to forgiveness of yourself and others, to the possibility that you were wrong, to being able to name the goodness of the person that hurt you. In this way they will surely grow up with a deep sense of the subtle complexities of our human relationships, rather than seeing all people as either our friends or our enemies, as either the good or the bad people.

Stay in one place long enough that they can see you having fun with someone who they know you had terrible argument with just last year. Stay long enough that they can see you bringing a post-partum meal to someone that they know caused you rage only last month. Stay long enough that even when your life seems to fall apart before their very eyes, they can witness how there’s another train, always, taking you back to the home of your heart, right here where you always were.  Stay long enough that they can come to trust that all things pass, and we can always choose to love again, there is no place else to go but there.

18.  On Making Stuff

Make things together. This is really important as a whole, but at the same time it doesn’t matter what you make. Nor does it matter how many times you make it, or even how well you make it; the only point is that the children grow up knowing that people make things. 

Make food, of course – but for the purpose of this goal I don’t think it even matters whether you are making raw milk cheese, or whole wheat pretzels, or deep fried donuts. Make things with wood and nails, and actually use what you’ve made, no matter how clunky it might be. Make books, sew the spines and decide what to write or draw in them. If they are going to school, then you especially need to make sure to show them that worthwhile projects happen at home where there is no credit given or withheld and the works are never graded. Write down their spontaneously sputtered poems, in front of them, so they’ll know that normal people make poems. Make presents to give others, make suet balls for the birds, make massage oils….all of these things are both so easy and so hard to do. So easy, because nothing matters but to begin that something, and to be together making whatever it is. So hard, because there’s a little toxin that you have to keep purging from your mind: the notion that whatever you do has to be up to some standard, or that you have to maintain some level of accomplishment on a regular basis. Yes, do make things often over the years – but really all you can ever do is one thing, one day, one time. If you think about all you WANT to be doing over the years, you will be overwhelmed and incapacitated. In this case, forget about a master plan to ensure they become proficient at any particular skill; no matter what specific opportunities to make things they have, each fits perfectly into the master plan – to grow up knowing they have what it takes to make things with their own hands, head, and heart.

19.  On Hiding Your Sword

When Sophie was born someone gave me the wonderful gift of a book titled “The Tao of Motherhood,” by Vimala McClure. The book offered many wise reflections on parenting, and my favorite one went something like this:

Many times your child will challenge you, push you beyond your limit to endure: whininess, clinging, meanness, selfishness, any number of behaviors that will, at the least, embarrass you, and at the worst make you loose control of your temper.

Vimala said: you may think you are in charge, and you can act like you’re in charge – you can make time-outs, you can take away toys and privileges, any number of things. All the while you have at your side the tool of your adult power – your “sword,” and it can be effective – but ONLY if you leave the sword in its sheath. The minute you take it out, that is to say, the minute you show your intense anger or your violent reaction, you have lost. Because once you’ve taken it out, you discover the truth: the child’s sword is bigger than yours. The child can take this behavior even further, and you have no more sword to show – you’ve already pulled it out and divulged its true nature: you can’t really stop this behavior by your sheer will, since you are not willing to harm the child. Keep it in the sheath. When we lose control of our temper, we always lose the battle.

 20. On Learning Out Loud

That’s what I call it when I remember to process my hard times out-loud, in front of the kids, before I’ve got it all figured out. I have problems: the friend about whom I have angry or sad feelings; the work situation that challenges my patience; the unclear ethical dilemma, etc.  My hope is that, by presenting the unsolved problem in its multi-faceted, non-black-and-white reality, I inspire this young person to work on solving it too. I don’t insist on her solving it the same way that I do. I do however try to insist that she not write people off as bad guys or good guys. Even if I have lowered myself to that, I try to acknowledge it out loud, and voice the fact that I don’t like that simple conclusion I’ve made, that I am looking for a better way to deal with it. You see what I mean? I want to be honest, even if it’s embarrassing sometimes to divulge my smallnesses. How else will the next generation grow up to be more wise and good than ours, if we don’t take advantage of these chances we have to learn out loud? How else can we ensure that they don’t grow up with the illusion that adults have it all figured out?

21. On the Opening of the Flower

This image I read about long ago in some book, and it has sometimes helped me to let go of my ego in parenting. It surely sounds Buddhist:

Human consciousness is a flower, slowly opening to reveal the glorious center: peace, harmony, wisdom, all that stuff. Each generation is a layer of the petals, opening closer and closer toward the center, and as more of the petals open we come closer to a way in which deep consciousness can be accessible to all.

This means that not only mustn’t I as a parent feign more wisdom than my child; I must assume that she, being the next generation, already has a head start on something beautiful. I have put her on this path by giving birth to her, but unless I uphold and expect that wisdom from her, it may become stuck. I can’t presume to know exactly what it is that she can see more clearly; I only need to keep believing that it is there, and to not allow my ego to be threatened when she speaks her wisdom. In that way, by trying to stay out of the way, I can spare doing damage to her as she grows into trusting her role in the opening of the flower.

(I trust you understand that I am not referring here to “wisdom” about, for example, how many popsicles to eat or how late to stay up.)

22.  On Gifts, Siblings, and Gratitude

When I was a child it was common practice among parents to measure the gifts and the opportunities they gave their children and to ensure that all was equal among them. Sometimes the measurement was in actual physical size, as in making sure that the boxes under the tree were of equal physical measurements, and sometimes (often simultaneously) the dollars spent on each had been counted and were assuredly equal. Certainly no one got more items than another. Usually the gifts had to be quite similar as well; if one got clothes, then the other did too; if one got a toy then so did the others. If one were taking piano lessons, then the other could take one weekly lesson as well, but not two.

I disagree with this practice, and as a parent I have I actively rebelled against it. Is life equal and fair? Are we all the same, do we all have the same needs and desires? Do we really want to train our children to be looking over their shoulders to make sure their sibling didn’t get more than them? Do we want our gifts to pretend to reflect the amount of love we have, all equal between them? Can you say that your love for your different children is equal, or is it as unique and immeasurable as the personality of each child herself?

In the interest of getting this point across to our daughters, I was perhaps a little more radical than would have been necessary. Our gifts were almost always simple and cheap if not free and homemade, similar to many families we know around here.  But sometimes we didn’t even give birthday presents to one girl or another, or sometimes at Christmas with all the relatives we saved our simple gifts to give at home, so that the kids wouldn’t see their gifts in comparison to those of their cousins. Sometimes both girls got a gift at the birthday of one of them. Sometimes the birthday girl was urged to make gifts for others. But I don’t ever recall giving matching or even similar gifts to the girls, and I spoke out loud and often about the importance of giving from the heart instead of giving with the burden of measurements attached.

I wanted them to grow up to not expect gifts, to be surprised and amazed and deeply grateful when they were given something, rather than the other thing we can so easily create: a child who, by the time she is 3, is already tearing open each present, glancing at it briefly, and then demanding to open the next one. They aren’t born with that sense of entitlement. Gifts should be received in slow consideration and reverence; and yes, our children can eventually outgrow the selfishness we and our loving relatives accidentally plant in them with the giving of beautiful and plentiful gifts, but I recommend trying to nurture their natural sense of non-expectation and of gratitude. This requires a constant and conscious effort, living as we do in this land of abundance.

23.  On All the Cool Stuff You Won’t Get Around to Doing

I had so many cool ideas about stuff to do with the kids, as I know you do too, because all of us parents dream in our own perfect ways of the wonderful childhood we want to create for our children. I got ideas from books, from my own childhood, from friends – there were way too many! Some of them I organized onto lists: “places to go on vacation,” “songs to sing at holidays,” “other families to have over to supper,” “carpentry projects for Daniel and the girls.” Other ideas were stuck in my head, haunting me and taunting me that I would never get around to them, which largely was true. Even now many of those come easily to mind, down those old worn paths that lead to nowhere: “Have a whole day every year when we do not speak out loud.” “Walk at night under the full moon every month for a year.” “Do all the things throughout the year that Tasha Tudor did in her book A Time to Keep.” “Take the girls to see mom and dad once a month.” I better stop recalling these things before I start feeling wistful….

-Because the point I want to make here is actually a cheery one. Here it is: Don’t think that you have to do all that stuff, and do it a bunch of times, and be all organized about the big picture of their childhood, in order for them to grow up whole and happy. You know what? You can go camping two times total, and as a teen they will look back and say, “remember when we always used to go camping? I LOVE camping. When I grow up I’m going to take my kids camping all the time like you did with us.” You may think that you rarely took the time to sing to them at bedtime, but if you did it some, that is all it takes for them to know the beauty of that gift – they weren’t counting the number of nights, and they can’t see the regrets you might have about all the nights you felt too tired or busy to mount the stairs.

So leave behind the regrets about what you already haven’t done, and the projected regret about the never-to-be-accomplished lists, and just enjoy all that there is in front of you right now. Grasp and believe that these gracious children will be thanking you for all you did do, even if you think you barely did it, and then you can laugh out loud with me at the benevolence of the world.

24.    On (What I Imagine to be) a Great Book

I once read a book title: “The Good-Enough Parent.” I never read the book; the title alone saved me from myself.

25.  On Facing Your Own Self-Image

Don’t talk yourself down in front of your kids. There are two different issues here: Stuff that you can’t do or be, that you are at peace with; and on the other hand, stuff that you aspire to do or become and may have some regrets about not having done or become. In the first case, there’s nothing harmful about saying, “No, I don’t expect I’ll ever get selected to fly to the moon,” or “Fixing the brakes on your go-cart is something you’ll have to ask your mom about, because it’s not something I’ve decided to learn how to do.”

But watch out about the stuff that you wish you were good at, because your regret or fear about it can easily come out looking like self-denigration. Let’s say you’ve always wanted to be able to make music. Instead of, “Dearie, your mom is not a musician and never will be one. That’s just not going to happen,” say “I have it in me to have a ton of fun playing the banjo, but I haven’t started learning yet. When I get started – watch out Banjo Pete!”

What’s the difference? I think kids are really sensitive to our own sense of ourselves, and they easily sense our attitudes about ourselves and adopt them as their own. If we model giving up on something that’s really important to us, proclaiming that we’re incapable of accomplishing something that we yearn for, then they will do the same. It’s not fair to hand them that attitude.

26.  On What You Teach

Did I read this somewhere, or did a wise old parent say it to me? “No matter what you teach, what your children really learn is who you are.” How’s that for saying it like it is? In other words, no matter how smart a talker you are, you can’t conceal from them who you really are. We all know this, for we were once kids and saw plenty of the hypocrisies demonstrated by the adults around us. But the first time I heard this saying after becoming a parent, I knew it had come around: now I was the adult that kids would be able to see right through.

This realization didn’t make me decide that I had to become a better hider (how hopeless), nor did it make me accelerate a quest to become a perfect person (thank goodness, I’d given up on that long ago). Instead what it made me realize was that I had to be honest with the girls about myself, at every turn: if I told them that I thought such-and-such (forgiving each other, exercising, writing in a journal daily, serving the poor, etc.) was the way we should strive to be in the world, then I had to accompany that ideal with my own real shortcomings, and model self-acceptance in spite of the shortcomings.

As soon as you can, I recommend accepting this: that your child will know your heart and soul very, very well. Don’t fight it – use the fact to inspire you to be both as good and as honest as you are able.

  27. On Wholeness – Yours, and Theirs

Of all the things I have to say about parenting, this may be one that I feel the most deeply.

When each of them was born, it was easy for you to recognize the perfect miracle of what they were. You served them in a selfless way such as you had never experienced before. Each of them gave you the chance to be the most loving and strong person you’ve ever been.  How could that have happened? What is it about a little baby that enables us to love in such a perfect way?

Try to answer that one, or don’t – but what matters is, to never forget that first vision of their perfection. Take note, every time you gaze at their small sleeping bodies, and remember all that acceptance and forgiveness. Carry it in your heart all the time, and call it forth over and over. Remember it when they are two and have hit the neighbor girl. Remember it when they are 13 and can seem so selfish. Remember it when they are 19 and seem so lost. It’s all still there in each of them.

It is given to you, their parents, to remember their perfection, the holiness that they brought to earth. If you will just remember it, believe it, and trust that it’s there even when it doesn’t seem apparent, then you will keep it alive for them. In doing that, you also keep alive and vibrant your own ability to love in the way you did when you first beheld them.

Insist on believing in their holiness, even when you can’t see it. Call it forth in them, and trust that it is there. Then this child too will be able to believe that she or he is part of all Goodness, even when they feel very lost. If you get really good at practicing this, you can learn to cast onto other people that eye-that-sees-Goodness-in-them. In doing this you can,  I can, we all can begin to offer something divine to the part of the world where we live. 

Do you hear what I’m saying? It has nothing to do with how often we live up to our ideals as parents, nor with how often our children do beautiful or terrible things. Its only this, and just this simple: every day we get another chance to practice seeing the best in another, in this one other who has a way better chance at evoking our love than anyone else ever could. Our reward for getting up and trying, again and again, is unspeakably beautiful:

    ⁃    to watch a person grow up knowing that they are enough, that they are whole, and that we all are enough, we all are whole.