March 4, 2002

• Loathing.
  ...Just continuing on from my last entry.
  How do you make your kids love themselves? Yes, yes, we all know that you are supposed to love yourself or no one else will.
  OH, POOP. That doesn’t even make sense.
  Think about it, when all you feel is self loathing, how do you gain the perspective to love yourself? You don’t wake up one morning and think "Hmmm. Yesterday I was crap, I was the stink on the bottom of a city pigeon’s feet. But TODAY, I will don my Superman cape and let the trumpets sound because I am truly magnificent."
  Horsepuckey.
  How do you ‘grow’ human beings who like themselves?
  As a parent, as a woman, I am very conscious of trying to instil self confidence and self-like in my kid, without having her grow up into an insufferable brat who pulls her dress over her head in public when no one is paying attention to her.
  It’s a fine line, isn’t’ it?
  I think my folks, being British, tended to downplay accomplishments and worried that too much praise, or perhaps, over-effusive praise, bred braggarts and pompous assholes. So they were pleased with our accomplishments but hardly the type to frame and matt your first scribble and hang it on the wall.
  Kids were part OF the family, not the reason FOR the family, if that makes any sense. You were expected to pull your weight, and not expect people to make exceptions or go out of their way for you. You just did what was expected of you, and the expectations were high.
  But that’s not a bad thing, and I am not blaming them in any way. We were always confident of being loved and they thought the world of us. We could do anything we set our minds to. Our job as kids was to fulfil our potential.
  And they had every right to want that for us.
  But it meant that somewhere along the way, I began worrying that I might fail. That's me. Worrying. And extrapolating from that you get, 'well if you might fail, you might have to deal with failure'. So you either over achieve like mad, or don’t bother at all. Either way, you lose sight of what you are actually naturally capable of. It’s all about what other people tell you that you can and cannot do. Your thoughts on the matter are buried. That's the type of kid I was, from the word 'go' - they didn't make me like that, I was always that way. I panicked easily.
  Is that any worse than having no expectations for your kids? No.
  It’s a thorny thing; it’s a balancing act.
  You want a well-adjusted kid who grows into a well-adjusted adult. They need to have expectations set for them. You want them to use every scrap of talent or wit that they possess. You know, so you don’t end up chasing them all over the country with a shotgun and a bail bondsman. Or having their only contribution in life the dubious art of making farting noises with their armpits. Or renting them the bottom 20 ft of your yard so they can pitch their trailer home and make beercan hats. Or having to kick them out of the house at 40 because it is time they learned to pay a utility bill and open a tin of beans. You get the picture.
  So how to do it?
  How do you raise a child that has some social graces but who isn’t convinced that being social is all that counts? How do you raise a child that values her intelligence but understands that that just because you are smart, smart doesn’t make you right? How do you raise a child that is confident and aware, but understands that not everyone is? And that not everyone gets the chances that she will inevitably blow? And that it’s NOT ALWAYS SOMEONE ELSE’S FAULT.
  And what if you are a kid who is born shy and born thinking everyone else has it figured out? Seems to me then a big helping of ‘you go girl’ complete with a marching band and majorettes might be something that is required on a semi regular basis. At least until you can supply the majorettes and marching band yourself. And do you ever? Do you ever supply your own cheerleading section if you are one of those people who start shy and painfully self-conscious? Do you grow out of it?
  What about those pompous prats that talk too loudly and dress too flashily and move in for the kill on any member of the opposite sex that’s downwind? Did they start out one way, and then their doting mamas turned them into these moral monstrosities through over compensation?
  I want to ‘grow’ a strong feisty funny independent smart ‘take no prisoners’ kind of woman who isn’t a ball breaker, who genuinely likes men and women, and who doesn’t think she is the only reason that the sun shines on the planet. I want her to develop empathy and a social conscience and to remember that her looks are an accident, not a moral judgement. I want her to accept her screw-ups and move on, and not hold anyone else responsible when she falls on her ass. But also to know that sometimes, it’s okay to stay in bed and wail ‘it’s unfair’. Because sometimes it is.
  So I swing back and forth between screeching enthusiastic praise when she remembers to pick up her toys or attempts to go through the scary dark tunnel at the playground and mortification as she serenaded the bus passengers at the top of her lungs, nodding and smiling to her audience like a pint size Tony Bennett.
  Ai yi yi, this parenthood thing is HARD.

  • 12:57 am
  • 15 Comments