As a parent, I try to have a lot of empathy for my children. I remember how I felt when I got yelled at or hit or spanked. Or when I didn’t understand something. Or when I felt you were being treated unfairly. I remember how the things my parents did had little effect on me, except to make me respect them less.
My kids are people, and I treat them as such. I respect their feelings. I try to understand how they see the world, just as I do here with other people. I know that it sure doesn’t work to order them around, or to teach them how unfair the world is by acting like a dictator. It is unfair. I don’t see why I should make it worse any more than I do without meaning to.
If my son seems selfish at home (apparently he doesn’t do these things when he’s with other people) or ill mannered, or if he does something stupid like flipping a rock in the air and it falls down on my head, I try to explain to him or help him figure it out himself what the advantages of good manners and empathy for other people, and thinking about the consequences of his behavior are. I have very high expectations for my kids. Maybe too high. But I’m not going to beat them until they meet those expectations.
My daughter blows her teachers away with her maturity and intelligence. She is the peacemaker and solid center of her “posse” at school. She is a powerful singer who can accompany herself on the piano. She is an amazing writer who tells fascinating stories.
This is all at an exclusive school that we have trouble affording. We do without a lot of things to send the kids to this school (staycations instead of vacations, computers that are six or seven years old (mine), holes in the plaster that have been in the kitchen for years).
My son may not be the best reader and he may not be as motivated by traditional school subjects, but musically and artistically, he is phenomenal. At nine, he already draws better than I ever did, or ever could. For God’s sake, he knows how to use shading in his drawings. He draws these imaginary dragons that look totally professional. He is teaching himself a new Bach piece on the piano over the summer. His Aikido teachers tell us he’s a “natural.” He works harder at things he chooses and loves than anyone I’ve ever seen (if only he loved reading and math that way). He is generally polite outside the house, and the teachers and other kids in his class absolutely adore him.
I think this has to do, a lot, with the way my wife and I parent. We try to demonstrate responsibility, caring, and hard work as much as possible. We demonstrate empathy and politeness as much as we can. We demonstrate respect by respecting our kids. We never hit them. We always try to explain the reasons for why we expect what we expect. We answer all the why questions even when it drives us to distraction, and even when we don’t know, we hop on the internet to try to find out. We give them as many opportunities as we possibly can without driving ourselves crazy. I pushed hard on the piano practicing, and both kids cried a few times, and that was a mistake, but I pulled back, and they both love to play. Believe me, as dedicated parents, we really skirt close to the edge of having nervous breakdowns, and sometimes we fall over that edge (although there are other reasons for that).
I may not like infancy and toddlerdom compared to the what they are like now, but I changed half the diapers, and I did one-third to one-half of the night-time duties (reading, rocking to sleep, getting up when they are sick), and I fed them baby food (which disgusts me as much as trapping mice disgusts my wife—the smell of pureed canned peas? Shudder!). I did (while they were infants and toddlers) a hell of a lot more than most men do (although still never enough for my wife) and I appreciated every second of it.
I hate braggarts and I hate bragging, but there seems to be a level of misunderstanding of what I’m talking about that I have given into my defensive feelings. I am not blowing smoke. I know what I’m talking about, and I know that what I do works. I do not appreciate being criticized for my parenting or for what some may interpret as irresponsibility. You can needle me as much as you want in other topics (although it is annoying in that it doesn’t contribute either to the substance of the conversation, nor is it humorous) and I will ignore it or respond in kind, but not on this subject. Fluther is a place where we can speak our minds, but it is a mistake to think that what we say is a good representation of what we do.
I am consistently honest in taking a hard look in the mirror at myself. To a fault, perhaps. It appears that it annoys some people, but that doesn’t stop me. I rarely give in to the urge to defend myself, because I think it’s up to other people to judge me as they will. But I expect them to keep their damn judgments to themselves, because they do not know the whole story. I understand that we all slip up in being judgmental on occasion, but this is a touchy area for me. I would appreciate it very much if the very few people who get medieval on my ass would chill a bit. Comments of denigration and personal attack, no matter how obliquely or (supposedly) humorously phrased, are not part of the fluther culture.
I am very proud of my kids. I am very proud of my parenting. I think I’ve earned that pride.