Reality Check

Let's face it: being a grown-up isn't always fun. In fact, it's rarely fun...we find our moments of fun in-between all of the other stuff we have to do, like cooking dinner and doing the laundry and going to work. There's no question that being a kid is a much better deal.

So why, then, when I ask my four-year-old to do a simple task like setting the table, does she freak out, stomp her feet and throw the cutlery on the floor?

Children are, by nature, ego-centric. They can't fathom that the world doesn't revolve around them, their wants and their needs. But the fact is, it doesn't. And life is full of little disappointments.

Our kids today have everything, from Gymboree classes to the latest toys and brand-name clothes. My kids are no exception. Like any middle-class parent—and like our parents before us—my husband and I wanted to give our kids more than we had. To smooth the path for them and pave an easy road into adulthood.

But where does it stop? What happens when our kids realize they are actually NOT the centre of the universe? That, in fact, there's a whole wide world out there that may embrace their presence—but could also do just fine without them?

This issue of confidence and self-worth: it's a sticky one. Too much of it, and you'll get spoiled, entitled kids who mistakenly believe the world exists solely to do their bidding. Too little, and you'll wind up with kids who are too delicate and fragile to cope with life's challenges and move past them.

My four-year-old is bossy, opinionated, outspoken and entirely self-assured. So I worry about the first time she hears the words, "I don't like you" or "I don't want to play with you." I worry what will happen to her self-esteem when she's told, "That's just not good enough."
 
I worry about how to teach my girls how to stand up for themselves—to be proud of their accomplishments and who they are—without feeling that they are owed something for simply existing. And I don't know how to explain that mistakes and disappointments are an inevitable part of life so they'll need to learn to handle them gracefully, whether they like it or not.

I know I can't shield my kids forever, however much I might want to, and that it's my job to explain these things. But they aren't life lessons that I want to teach. Truthfully, I've barely learned them myself.

Four Parenting Confessions

I caught myself doing one of these things this morning, so I thought, Hey, why not write a blog about it?

Today, for your amusement, I give you a few parenting confessions. Don't judge me; just use this to bolster your confidence about your own parenting skills.

1. I use the smell test for everything. Does the toddler need her diaper changed? (sniff) Yup. Are these clothes clean or dirty? (sniff) Dirty. Is this today's sippy cup of milk or the one from three days ago that might possibly have rolled under the sofa? (sniff) Three days ago. Pre-kids, did you every thought you'd make a habit of sniffing your kids' bums? Probably not. But the smell test is, truly, the answer to every pressing parenting question.

2. I sometimes pretend that I don't hear my kids. Not when they legitimately need me, of course—as a parent, you learn early on to tell the difference between a "my sister stole my toy" scream and an "I might need stitches" scream. But sometimes, when I hear my kids calling, "Mommy, mommy," in that whiny, solve-all-of-my-problems-for-me-while-you-make-dinner-one-handed kind of way, I just don't answer. Basically, I do the grown-up equivalent of covering my ears with my hands and singing, "La, la, la!" Oh, wait—I think I actually did that once.

3. I worry about how other parents judge me based on how I'm feeding my kids. This is a paranoia that started early on, when I tried to breastfeed my first baby and wasn't successful. When I'd take my her to mother's groups, and she'd start to fuss, I'd guiltily bring out a bottle of formula, wanting to proclaim loudly to everyone, "I tried really hard to breastfeed, I swear! It just didn't work out!" And that feeling—that I'm not doing it right or well enough—has persisted. I have never been the kind of mom who prepares organic healthy gluten-free snacks from scratch. Sure, I try to make sure that my kids eat their fruits and vegetables...but I also let them eat goldfish and Timbits and chicken nuggets and pre-made meals from Longo's on a regular basis. Not only do I hate to cook, but I work full-time and have a long commute—and, frankly, I'm not willing to spend my two days off doing something that I hate. That's my reality.
 
4. I look forward to the time when they're both asleep. It's not that I don't enjoy spending time with my kids. It's just that they're constant—always needing something, always wanting something. Every day is, to a large extent, driven by their schedules. So, by the end of the day, I'm ready for some time to do something that I want to do. Plus, no matter how bad they've been during the day, they look so darned cute when they're sleeping.

Now, if you'll excuse me...something doesn't smell great, so I'd better figure go out what it is.

Fine Lines

Yesterday, I had the vastly unpleasant experience of someone stealing my wallet and having a grand old time with my credit cards until I noticed that it was missing. After many, many hours of worrying, and berating myself for not being more attentive, and cleaning up the mess that this inconsiderate person created, I now find myself wondering what I can take away from the experience.

Obviously, my No. 1 learning is, for God's sake, don't keep so much stuff in your wallet! I'm embarrassed that I wasn't smarter or more careful—but to be honest, that's not what's really bothering me.

My parents both considered themselves spiritual but not formally religious people. We didn't go to church, because they had issues with the conflicts (wars, genocide) that organized religion can sometimes cause. I explored a few different paths, visiting different churches with my friends, but none of them felt right to me. Then I went to university and read Nietzsche, and out went any notion that organized religion would be my source of comfort.

But I do believe that everyone has to believe in SOMETHING, so I decided that I would believe in people. People are essentially good, I told myself, and throughout my life, I've found many examples to shore up my argument. So what's really bothering me about this incident is that it's shaken my faith in just how "good" people really are.

Plus, I'm finding myself more preoccupied with an even bigger dilemma: if I don't understand this kind of behaviour, how can I possibly explain it to my kids?

As parents, we invest so much time and energy in teaching our kids to share, to get along, to be nice and to participate actively in our community. Those are undeniably important messages.

But how do we reconcile these messages with the other messages that we also need to convey: that not everyone is nice, good or honourable? That, at some point (and, let's face it, probably at many points) in my kids' lives, someone is going to try to screw them over? That they will sometimes lose out to factors beyond their control. That there are bad people in the world. And that even essentially good people can still make bad decisions that have damaging consequences.

Mostly, I worry about my eldest daughter—the one we call the Arbiter of Justice, since she always lets you know where you stand when you violate one of the "rules" she's learned. Because no matter how smart or pretty she is, and no matter how well she thinks she understands how the world works, sooner or later, someone isn't going to like her. Someone will steal something from her. Someone will violate her trust. Someone will break her heart. And the thought of having to teach her that breaks my heart.

Share...but don't share everything. Help others...but not if it puts you in danger. Be kind...but don't expect everyone to be kind to you.

I want my kids to do what's right. But if I don't understand how people can act the way they do, how can I possibly explain it to them?

We don't live in a world that's black and white; it is so many subtle shades of grey. I want to raise kids who understand how to live—and thrive—in such a world. I just hope I'm equal to the task.

Finding the Moments

This past week, we went on a family vacation to Manitoulin Island to visit my husband's mom and her husband. It was not the most successful trip we've ever taken. 

The drive—which takes six hours on a GOOD day—took an entire extra hour because part of the 400 was closed. My youngest got a GI virus, which she very kindly passed on to me and my mother-in-law. It took us all several days to recover, and then my husband got a cold. The weather was not fantastic—one morning, it felt like October—and being stuck indoors on Manitoulin Island is kind of missing the point. 

By the end of the week, my husband and I had reached the point where we were ready to put the kids back in daycare for a bit, just so we wouldn't have to be CONSTANTLY entertaining them.

I admit it: I was a little pissed off. A whole week of hard-earned vacation, and that's what we get for it?

But.

Here's the thing: when you have kids, you have to look for the moments that make a difference.

Watching my eldest climbing like a mountain goat on the (many) rocks. The sheer joy on her face as she ran in and out of the (very cold) water. The full hour we spent playing Crazy 8s on the kids' picnic table outside. The sweetness of seeing my youngest child interacting with her grandparents. A cold glass (or two) of chardonnay, watching the waves lap against the shore. Letting the battery die in my Blackberry and not checking my work email. Just doing nothing for five minutes.

It wasn't perfect, but what in life is? Especially when you have two growing, changing, demanding and energetic children with you. The thing about kids is, they're always there, 24/7...and while you know this intellectually, you don't really understand it emotionally until you have children of your own.

Life is busy, sticky, messy. Things rarely work out as you've planned. Case in point: my four-year-old, who should be napping right now, is sitting on my lap as I write this blog post.

It's not a perfect life, but it's a good life. As long as you can find the moments.

Let It Go

My youngest daughter just turned two, and I have to admit, it hit me harder than I had expected. I watch her wrestle with her sister, or hear her ask me questions in full sentences, or see her stubbornly refuse to let me put on her shoes for her, and I am forced to realize that she's not a baby anymore.

It's hard to let go. And when you think about it, it's understandable: so much of your time and energy as a mother—particularly in those early years—is spent worrying about how your children are doing, and what they are doing, and keeping them safe. 

But when you get right down to it, that's what parenting is all about: the gradual letting go of your children as you empower them to be independent individuals. Teaching them how to make their own decisions, and giving them the skills and strength they need to succeed on their own.

That's why I struggle with stories like the recent one about the South Carolina mother. If you haven't heard it, here's the gist: she worked at McDonald's during the day and often brought her nine-year-old daughter to work with her. But, not surprisingly, the daughter got bored of sitting in a restaurant all day and wanted to be dropped off at a nearby park. The mother left her daughter at the park while she worked for several hours, on several occasions. Now, she has been arrested for "unlawful conduct towards a child."

This story makes me sad, for several reasons. The woman—who is clearly a low-income earner—will most certainly lose her job. She will probably also lose custody of her child, who is currently with the Department of Social Services. And that means that her daughter—who is fine, by the way—will also lose her mother.

Did the mother make a wise decision, leaving her daughter at the park alone while she worked? Well, no. But what if the child had been 11 or 12 instead of nine...would it then have been okay? If it had been just once, instead of several times? If it had been for an hour instead of several hours?

I don't know what choices this woman had—whether the father is in the picture, whether she has any family or friends who could have helped out, or whether social childcare programs were an option for her. 

But I do know that every single day of parenting is full of decisions that can either minimally or profoundly affect your children and your family—and you don't always know which one it will be, at the time.

I'm not looking forward to the day that I have to make decisions like whether my eldest is old enough to walk to school on her own, or when it's okay for her to take her sister to the park on her own. And that's partly because I'm afraid of making the wrong ones—What if there is a degenerate in the park that day? What if there's a distracted driver when she has to cross the busy street?—but also because I'm afraid of how others will judge those decisions. 

As a society, we are quick to blame and punish parents for their failures. But the reality is that parenting is a series of choices, and we've all made choices that didn't go as planned.

Of course, it's our job to keep our kids safe—as much as we can control that, anyway. But it's also our job to gradually let go of that control. Because that's how our children will grow up.