Being a father has so many different sub-roles attached to it. Navigating them, keeping all roles straight, and making sure everyone is happy is tough. It's sort of like crossing a six-way intersection that has several train crossings thrown in. And it's just when things get stressful in the world around you that wires get crossed, kids act-up, and tempers collide.
Losing your temper doesn't get you very far. Arguing rarely solves problems. It is within these dangerous crossroads that we receive a certain and elusive gift: the gift to exercise our patience and understanding.
How can you expect to just naturally be good at something so difficult? How can you think that such valuable skills will just fall into your lap? Maybe you discover that you're not very good at these things right now, and that is a gift as well.
My family has recently seen a spree of sickness, hurricanes, and stress coupled with a quick drainage of money; there's that dangerous intersection I was talking about. And the speeding trains were my daughters boiling over and my wife and I entrenched in pressure. I can honestly say that for the last week and a half, my older daughter has behaved worse than she has ever behaved. She has learned to talk back, to make ultimatums, to throw extended, nuclear powered tantrums, and to be unabashedly stubborn.
But you can't just throw in the towel. Now comes the opportunity of the moment.
As parents, we have all learned new and deep definitions of the word "patience." Yet we get into grooves, find a system that works, and our new definitions of patience don't get tested. But with this recent onslaught, I've found myself tired and frustrated like I would have been somewhere at the beginning of this whole journey. I've lost my temper, I've yelled, I've made threats. But this isn't the time for those things; it's time to take a step back.
What does my daughter's behavior show me about me? A lot, really. Her talking back and ultimatums are the inverse--the evil twin--of the ways in which I have bribed her to behave or threatened her with discipline. She sees these things, twists them in her own frustrating battle, she shines them back at me and reveals a new light of what this comfortable groove has really been for us: unhealthy. I've been bribing her "to have a nice bedtime," offering rewards for "being nice while in the store," and so many more things that send the wrong message. And I haven't followed through with discipline, I haven't kept a clean house, I haven't modeled the right behavior to reinforce the better side of all these things.
And those tantrums? I've let small tantrums change my mind, so why shouldn't a bigger one work even better? I've taken the easy road many times with them on long days and given in on things just to make the day more manageable. Now I'm just reaping what I've been sewing.
So her behavior of late has been a reflection of me. And I'm finding it hard to cope with because of the stress I've been under. Now is the time that I get to work on my patience, my ability to handle stress at home, my ability to model right behavior and make everyone happy again.
And recently, my wife and I had the first argument we've had for a long time. Throughout it I was given the opportunities to exercise my ability to be understanding and again, my patience. I don't believe--in theory--that arguments between man and wife are something that one should try to "win." I don't believe that you should take shots, make things personal, or say things you have to regret later. After all, to most men, women seem to change the argument away from what we feel like it's about and to the things we've said in the course of the argument.
In the midst of things, you have to slow down and make sure you know what you're arguing about. And you have to remind yourself not to try and "win." Arguments are always lose-lose situations. If the two of you love each other and are committed to your family, then probably this is just a misunderstanding. And it might take a lot of time and a lot of talk to find out where the mis-communication is and where your true understanding lies.
It's not easy. Men grow up debating with each other in large groups--verbally sparring. This seems aggressive to women, most of whom grew up in smaller groups with any sparring hidden tightly in the sub-text.
And the only practical recommendation that I have for this is to constantly backtrack the argument to its roots--recover all of that ground together--until you can both verbalize--honestly--what you feel you are arguing about. Then revisit the assumptions that you held when entering into this argument. Very often, you are either arguing about different things, or your argument is based in the original assumptions that can be lost in the maze of words that we use to try and make our point clear.
Often, to women, men trying to make their point clear comes off as condescending. That's why backtracking becomes so necessary. Remember: you're trying to clear things up, not muddle them. This should be a cooperative discussion, not a bitter battle.
Now, I'm not saying that I'm perfect at these things. And I'm not saying that I like them. But not liking something doesn't make it any less of a gift.
How do you expect to handle a big crisis if your patience hasn't been tested? How do you expect to navigate a real misunderstanding if you haven't ever tried? How do you think you can foster harmony if you've never experienced discord? These things are not to be shied away from: they are to be approached mindfully. Respect the ways you can be tested. Respect the ways you will be temporized.
Henry David Thoreau put it best: "When a dog runs for you, whistle for it."
lastly--and just because I'm editing to add it doesn't make it less important--all of these situations give the very unique opportunity to practice forgiveness. When things are mended, attitudes should be as well. Forgiveness for a child should be total the minute they crack a smile or a laugh instead of a frown and cry. Forgiveness for a spouse should be total and grudges should never exist the moment understanding is reached. If this is easier said than done, you just need more practice. But that doesn't mean you should seek these opportunities, just value them.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
Monday, September 22, 2008
To Peek or not to Peek: Finding out the sex of your baby
With our first pregnancy, my wife couldn't wait until that 20 week sonogram. It was the fabled and treasured milestone that made the whole first and 20 weeks worth it. A half-way sign post, like opening that one present on Christmas Eve. And, honestly, I was pretty excited, too.
With the second pregnancy, I wanted to wait. We had done it the first way, now, it seemed to me, was a good time to try out the second way. But at the time, my wife was battling pretty severe depression. She had post-pardum depression and then we found out we were pregnant at 6 months out from the first birth, right at the apex of the depression. And it became the one little carrot that she could look forward to. So she talked me into it and we sat once more while the doctor jiggled her stomach with a jelly coated wand to get our baby to open her legs.
And, in the end, I found that one pretty exciting, too.
Now, the third time around, we are doing things differently. Instead of a hospital birth, we are having a birthing center birth like we've always wanted. And instead of finding out the sex half way through the pregnancy, we're waiting for that big surprise at the end.
Believe it or not, we actually are waiting.
As a matter of fact, it's too late. We had our big ultra-sound, checking for fingers, toes, ventricles, and brain hemispheres. But when it came to finding out the sex, we ditched it.
For one thing, this third time around, everything is going so much faster. It seems like we've just started with this baby and we're already half-way there. The suspense, honestly, wasn't enough to warrant finding out this time around. So we'll wait until that moment when the baby comes out to see what it is. I'm about 50% sure it's a girl.
And really, that's what makes the whole finding-out-the-sex-thing so anticlimactic to me: it's only one or the other. Some people hope for a boy or a girl, and I just don't care. Some people want to know what color to decorate the nursery, and we're not into that particular aspect of nesting. Some people want to know what color clothes to buy, and we don't really have the money for the full layette thing. Plus, I don't see any reason to start pushing gender roles so damn early. Why do we have to push them into pinks and blues, baseball and dolls? Let them decide what their role is going to be.
It's going to be one or the other. And that's just the tip of the iceberg of who these kids are. The ultrasound won't tell you if they're going to be a good person, or if they're going to have colic, or if they're going to be an astronomer when they grow up. It's just going to tell you if it's a boy or girl. It didn't tell us that our first daughter was going to be such a picky eater, that she was going to be so analytical, or that she was going to have the memory of an elephant. And it didn't tell us that our second daughter was going to eat anything you put in front of her, that she was going to forsake reality for an amazing imaginative life, or that she was going to be called "Birdy" instead of "Luna" by her sister.
Putting so much emphasis on the sex before the baby is born puts expectations on the child from the beginning. We're doing enough molding. We're doing enough indoctrinating as it is. Let them be born without the expectations that society places on so many aspects of their lives due to their sex.
That's my hypocritical viewpoint. We did it twice one way, and now we're trying the other. In the end, we'll still have the same baby, the same wonderful possibilities, and I just can't bring myself to think that doing it one way or the other will change that.
With the second pregnancy, I wanted to wait. We had done it the first way, now, it seemed to me, was a good time to try out the second way. But at the time, my wife was battling pretty severe depression. She had post-pardum depression and then we found out we were pregnant at 6 months out from the first birth, right at the apex of the depression. And it became the one little carrot that she could look forward to. So she talked me into it and we sat once more while the doctor jiggled her stomach with a jelly coated wand to get our baby to open her legs.
And, in the end, I found that one pretty exciting, too.
Now, the third time around, we are doing things differently. Instead of a hospital birth, we are having a birthing center birth like we've always wanted. And instead of finding out the sex half way through the pregnancy, we're waiting for that big surprise at the end.
Believe it or not, we actually are waiting.
As a matter of fact, it's too late. We had our big ultra-sound, checking for fingers, toes, ventricles, and brain hemispheres. But when it came to finding out the sex, we ditched it.
For one thing, this third time around, everything is going so much faster. It seems like we've just started with this baby and we're already half-way there. The suspense, honestly, wasn't enough to warrant finding out this time around. So we'll wait until that moment when the baby comes out to see what it is. I'm about 50% sure it's a girl.
And really, that's what makes the whole finding-out-the-sex-thing so anticlimactic to me: it's only one or the other. Some people hope for a boy or a girl, and I just don't care. Some people want to know what color to decorate the nursery, and we're not into that particular aspect of nesting. Some people want to know what color clothes to buy, and we don't really have the money for the full layette thing. Plus, I don't see any reason to start pushing gender roles so damn early. Why do we have to push them into pinks and blues, baseball and dolls? Let them decide what their role is going to be.
It's going to be one or the other. And that's just the tip of the iceberg of who these kids are. The ultrasound won't tell you if they're going to be a good person, or if they're going to have colic, or if they're going to be an astronomer when they grow up. It's just going to tell you if it's a boy or girl. It didn't tell us that our first daughter was going to be such a picky eater, that she was going to be so analytical, or that she was going to have the memory of an elephant. And it didn't tell us that our second daughter was going to eat anything you put in front of her, that she was going to forsake reality for an amazing imaginative life, or that she was going to be called "Birdy" instead of "Luna" by her sister.
Putting so much emphasis on the sex before the baby is born puts expectations on the child from the beginning. We're doing enough molding. We're doing enough indoctrinating as it is. Let them be born without the expectations that society places on so many aspects of their lives due to their sex.
That's my hypocritical viewpoint. We did it twice one way, and now we're trying the other. In the end, we'll still have the same baby, the same wonderful possibilities, and I just can't bring myself to think that doing it one way or the other will change that.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Trying to Hang-In there
We're having a rough time of things right now. We left our house yesterday after having one of the most miserable days of our lives. Both daughters are sick with a stomach virus and have been throwing up for a couple days. The hurricane knocked our fence down, cut down a few trees--one of which is sitting on top of our house right now--and cut off our power. The power company has said that it will probably be 2-4 weeks before power is restored. Hard to imagine.
These are the times that try a parent. My job says that we'll be back in business on Wednesday (I can't imagine) and I have to make sure that everything is as balanced as it can be.
So we spent the day in the heat and humidity, listening to trees crack and break all around us, the girls throwing up. My wife is 19 weeks pregnant and has a very bad cold which sounds like it's turning into an infection. Our house was too wretched and smelly to stay in, so we left to my sister's house in Austin. Our insurance deductible is too high to deal with, so we'll have to figure things out ourselves--but I don't know when. The house is unlivable; if you haven't spent a September in Houston, you may have no idea what I'm talking about. Summer doesn't end in September but sometime in late November.
But I don't post just to vent. Ours is not so sad a story as so many others.
I turned on the news today and saw that the hurricane in Houston was the second story today, just behind some bank closure. After everything we've seen there, all the people we've seen on the road, and knowing that even amoung our neighbors we got off lucky, I find that fact very depressing. We live in a socially constructed world, and within that construction, the issue of the economy means more than the issue of human suffering. The importance of money has more impact than an account of an experience with the power of nature.
Over the last few days, we've wathced our neighbors. We've seen how a place that has the meaning of "home" can be turned into a useless object; a pile of debris or a useless rotting shell. Our home will be of use again soon, but many people are homeless for good.
I think that it's a good time for us to examine our priorities. It's a good time for a mental shift in what we feel is important as a society. We see money as a measure of us, as a part of us, as an expression of us. It just doesn't seem right. I hope that our children are more free than we are to see people as people. To see our nation's happiness as something other than a spending report.
In the meantime, let's just hang-in there.
These are the times that try a parent. My job says that we'll be back in business on Wednesday (I can't imagine) and I have to make sure that everything is as balanced as it can be.
So we spent the day in the heat and humidity, listening to trees crack and break all around us, the girls throwing up. My wife is 19 weeks pregnant and has a very bad cold which sounds like it's turning into an infection. Our house was too wretched and smelly to stay in, so we left to my sister's house in Austin. Our insurance deductible is too high to deal with, so we'll have to figure things out ourselves--but I don't know when. The house is unlivable; if you haven't spent a September in Houston, you may have no idea what I'm talking about. Summer doesn't end in September but sometime in late November.
But I don't post just to vent. Ours is not so sad a story as so many others.
I turned on the news today and saw that the hurricane in Houston was the second story today, just behind some bank closure. After everything we've seen there, all the people we've seen on the road, and knowing that even amoung our neighbors we got off lucky, I find that fact very depressing. We live in a socially constructed world, and within that construction, the issue of the economy means more than the issue of human suffering. The importance of money has more impact than an account of an experience with the power of nature.
Over the last few days, we've wathced our neighbors. We've seen how a place that has the meaning of "home" can be turned into a useless object; a pile of debris or a useless rotting shell. Our home will be of use again soon, but many people are homeless for good.
I think that it's a good time for us to examine our priorities. It's a good time for a mental shift in what we feel is important as a society. We see money as a measure of us, as a part of us, as an expression of us. It just doesn't seem right. I hope that our children are more free than we are to see people as people. To see our nation's happiness as something other than a spending report.
In the meantime, let's just hang-in there.
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Kids and the whole Natural Disaster thing
We live just north of Houston. We've spent all day tracking Ike and watching the hysteria all around town. We have water. We have some food. We even have plywood for some of the windows. And with us checking our computers a couple times an hour and commenting on the wild loss of civility that our town has experienced, our kids have noticed.
Solstice, our 3-year-old, is especially observant. She has a thousand questions about hurricanes and tornadoes. I decided that what we would do is tell her what's going on in as much detail as we can. She generally understands more than I will give her credit for, so I was very generous with details.
I told her what a hurricane is, where they come from, and what they do when they hit land. She's fascinated with maps, so she's thrilled to see where we are on the map and what route the storm will take. I showed her videos of hurricanes and tornadoes. She pretty much adores tornadoes.
I just couldn't see holding back from her. I believe in education, not indoctrination or brainwahsing. I believe it's right to show her everything she asks about concerning an experience she's about to have and answering all questions as best I can. She can draw conclusions, she can make meaning, and when it's too much, well, that's what daddies are for, right?
She says she's not scared. We stressed to her over and over that she shouldn't be, despite all the activity going on around here. We're approaching the event with excitement--I've never been through a hurricane before.
The only thing that gives her pause is exactly what it is that's going to scare her in about 32 hours: the sound. I've explained to her that you hear a lot of loud noises inside one of these storms and that it can sound scary. She keeps asking if it can just be quiet, and no, it can't.
We're prepared. We're staying safe. We're not evacuating--it's not fair to the people in the actual evacuation zones for us to clog up the freeways too. And yes, there will be scary moments, but they're also excited about the party-like preparations. There are prospects of play-dough, painting, and HiHo Cherry-O.
Luna, however, is a different story. She's not scared; she just doesn't care. She's delighting in the idea of candles and daddy being home from work a couple extra days. But if she does get scared, we'll be here for her.
Solstice, our 3-year-old, is especially observant. She has a thousand questions about hurricanes and tornadoes. I decided that what we would do is tell her what's going on in as much detail as we can. She generally understands more than I will give her credit for, so I was very generous with details.
I told her what a hurricane is, where they come from, and what they do when they hit land. She's fascinated with maps, so she's thrilled to see where we are on the map and what route the storm will take. I showed her videos of hurricanes and tornadoes. She pretty much adores tornadoes.
I just couldn't see holding back from her. I believe in education, not indoctrination or brainwahsing. I believe it's right to show her everything she asks about concerning an experience she's about to have and answering all questions as best I can. She can draw conclusions, she can make meaning, and when it's too much, well, that's what daddies are for, right?
She says she's not scared. We stressed to her over and over that she shouldn't be, despite all the activity going on around here. We're approaching the event with excitement--I've never been through a hurricane before.
The only thing that gives her pause is exactly what it is that's going to scare her in about 32 hours: the sound. I've explained to her that you hear a lot of loud noises inside one of these storms and that it can sound scary. She keeps asking if it can just be quiet, and no, it can't.
We're prepared. We're staying safe. We're not evacuating--it's not fair to the people in the actual evacuation zones for us to clog up the freeways too. And yes, there will be scary moments, but they're also excited about the party-like preparations. There are prospects of play-dough, painting, and HiHo Cherry-O.
Luna, however, is a different story. She's not scared; she just doesn't care. She's delighting in the idea of candles and daddy being home from work a couple extra days. But if she does get scared, we'll be here for her.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
Co-Sleeping
Our daughters have their own room. They have bunk beds, a two bookshelves, two dollhouses, a dresser, and various toys and toy parts that we just don't know what to do with. They go to bed in their bunk beds every night, but for the past two months, it hasn't stayed that way.
We got the bunk beds because our 3-year old didn't like sleeping in her old bed. It was infested with what she called, "the uncabees." Parts of her bed turned into them at night and scared her, every night. The thought scared me and we just couldn't see forcing her to sleep with these damn uncabees much longer. We thought the bunk bed would introduce a fun, new quality to sleeping and at the same time save floor space for more various toys and toy parts. That was last spring.
Recently, our 3-year old has moved into our room every night for a different reason. The uncabees vanquished, she has bad dreams, hears a noise, or anything else. There are two kinds of bad dreams that she has--real and pretend ones. The pretend ones follow the same script for a couple weeks at a time, such as "a bear was trying to bite me" which has been her default complaint for the last two weeks. Real ones are at times very vivid and frightening, such as her latest, "Our house was shaking going, 'whoa, whoa,' and a witch was on top making it happen. Our cars were burning and we had to find someone with a car who could help us and we needed to fix our cars after they were on fire." That one kinda had me dumbfounded.
Her little sister is fine. She enjoys going to bed, sleeping in the arms of more than 500 stuffed animals. But the other night, with our "little bed" taken (the one at the foot of our bed which is regularly filled by about 11pm), our younger daughter was scared and wanted to come in. We were perturbed because instead of going to sleep, lying between her parents, she talked, played, touched faces, and laughed. She's a delight, really, but from 3-6am, no one slept because of her lightheartedness. But how can I be irritated with her when we let her older sister come in every single night?
Enter our idea: reintroducing co-sleeping. Well, sort of.
The four of us, soon to be five, can't really fit on our bed all at once. Not without waking to a world of cramps and cricks and aches. So we've been throwing around a couple ideas. First, we thought, put their mattresses down on the ground, get rid of the bunkbed and let them sleep right next to each other. This idea was met positively by the girls and we tried to last night to mix success (the mix being that they stayed in their bed all night, but didn't fall asleep until 11pm because they were reading and playing together in bed).
But our other idea is to give-in. Move both of their mattresses into our room and let them start and finish the night in there. We aren't bothered by that idea except that it is a "step back" considering that we wanted them to sleep in their own rooms a year and a half ago.
My wife remembers being younger and being lonely and scared at night. She would sneak into her parents' room with feelings of guilt. We don't want them to feel that way, like they're doing something "wrong" or being "babies." So this enrorsement is in the spirit of that.
It wasn't so long ago that every family co-slept. Just over 100 years ago, a family bed was the way all people slept. Strangers and travelers passing through town would sleep in the same room as the family who hosted them (we don't even answer the door to strangers, ourselves, much less feed them and let them sleep in our bedrooms). But in the context of that and with the idea that it promotes security and intimacy, it's rather beguiling to think that we kicked them out in the first place.
We have friends who practice the family bed. They have a king bed pushed up to a full bed and the whole bunch of them climb in at night. They love it--or at least I've never heard them complain.
We've always been practicioners of co-sleeping with an infant. With our first, we had big ideas about using an Arm's Reach Co-sleeper to no success. It just stayed there next to the bed, filled with nursing pads and diapers while Solstice usually slept on my chest. But, again, with baby number two, the Co-sleeper came in very handy, as she was happy to be in her own little space. We're planning on pulling the thing out again in February, just in case the next one is so adaptable.
We're weighing our options. We don't want to enforce rules about sleeping that are simply there for their own sake. We want to make a decision that is accomodating, nurturing, and educated. So I'm looking for thoughts from other parents out there.
Is there anyone out there who co-sleeps with "older" kids? Anyone doing the family bed?
We got the bunk beds because our 3-year old didn't like sleeping in her old bed. It was infested with what she called, "the uncabees." Parts of her bed turned into them at night and scared her, every night. The thought scared me and we just couldn't see forcing her to sleep with these damn uncabees much longer. We thought the bunk bed would introduce a fun, new quality to sleeping and at the same time save floor space for more various toys and toy parts. That was last spring.
Recently, our 3-year old has moved into our room every night for a different reason. The uncabees vanquished, she has bad dreams, hears a noise, or anything else. There are two kinds of bad dreams that she has--real and pretend ones. The pretend ones follow the same script for a couple weeks at a time, such as "a bear was trying to bite me" which has been her default complaint for the last two weeks. Real ones are at times very vivid and frightening, such as her latest, "Our house was shaking going, 'whoa, whoa,' and a witch was on top making it happen. Our cars were burning and we had to find someone with a car who could help us and we needed to fix our cars after they were on fire." That one kinda had me dumbfounded.
Her little sister is fine. She enjoys going to bed, sleeping in the arms of more than 500 stuffed animals. But the other night, with our "little bed" taken (the one at the foot of our bed which is regularly filled by about 11pm), our younger daughter was scared and wanted to come in. We were perturbed because instead of going to sleep, lying between her parents, she talked, played, touched faces, and laughed. She's a delight, really, but from 3-6am, no one slept because of her lightheartedness. But how can I be irritated with her when we let her older sister come in every single night?
Enter our idea: reintroducing co-sleeping. Well, sort of.
The four of us, soon to be five, can't really fit on our bed all at once. Not without waking to a world of cramps and cricks and aches. So we've been throwing around a couple ideas. First, we thought, put their mattresses down on the ground, get rid of the bunkbed and let them sleep right next to each other. This idea was met positively by the girls and we tried to last night to mix success (the mix being that they stayed in their bed all night, but didn't fall asleep until 11pm because they were reading and playing together in bed).
But our other idea is to give-in. Move both of their mattresses into our room and let them start and finish the night in there. We aren't bothered by that idea except that it is a "step back" considering that we wanted them to sleep in their own rooms a year and a half ago.
My wife remembers being younger and being lonely and scared at night. She would sneak into her parents' room with feelings of guilt. We don't want them to feel that way, like they're doing something "wrong" or being "babies." So this enrorsement is in the spirit of that.
It wasn't so long ago that every family co-slept. Just over 100 years ago, a family bed was the way all people slept. Strangers and travelers passing through town would sleep in the same room as the family who hosted them (we don't even answer the door to strangers, ourselves, much less feed them and let them sleep in our bedrooms). But in the context of that and with the idea that it promotes security and intimacy, it's rather beguiling to think that we kicked them out in the first place.
We have friends who practice the family bed. They have a king bed pushed up to a full bed and the whole bunch of them climb in at night. They love it--or at least I've never heard them complain.
We've always been practicioners of co-sleeping with an infant. With our first, we had big ideas about using an Arm's Reach Co-sleeper to no success. It just stayed there next to the bed, filled with nursing pads and diapers while Solstice usually slept on my chest. But, again, with baby number two, the Co-sleeper came in very handy, as she was happy to be in her own little space. We're planning on pulling the thing out again in February, just in case the next one is so adaptable.
We're weighing our options. We don't want to enforce rules about sleeping that are simply there for their own sake. We want to make a decision that is accomodating, nurturing, and educated. So I'm looking for thoughts from other parents out there.
Is there anyone out there who co-sleeps with "older" kids? Anyone doing the family bed?
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Breastfeeding, HH Dalai Lama, and Not Ruining Your Kids
I live in fear, a good deal of the day. I realize this. I realize that many of my posts, especially the anit-consumerism posts, are very much driven out of fear. But this fear comes to me through a good place; I don't want to ruin my kids.
I see the world and the struggle and suffering of it. And I see my kids--the endless happiness and potential of them. To my older daughter, Solstice who is 3, every question must have an answer. She is endlessly curious about the world around her. Asking questions about clouds, about the meaning of words that she uses every day, the ages of people and characters from books, the location of anything and everything on a map, this is how she spends her day. Every bit of it is spent trying to get a firm grasp of the world around her and how it works. And she thinks I have an answer for everything. And even as an English professor, I'm stumped when she asks, "What does 'sure' mean, daddy?" or "Is this tomorrow? We woke up, didn't we?"
Not always having an answer is okay, I think, but I don't want to discourage her from satisfying that curiosity. I don't want her to stop asking questions, no matter how annoying it can get at times. I'm afraid that I could easily squash her desire to learn, or that media influences could convince her that the answers lie without instead of within. How do I properly keep her world intact instead of letting the outside world change her wonderful disposition?
And to my second daughter, Luna, there are no questions. The world is a delightful paradise of her own creation. I often catch glimpses of her doing complicated movements with her hands in the middle of the air and ask her what she's doing, "I'm making a cake," or "I'm putting on my tail," or "I'm doctoring Hogarth" are all common answers. Everything around her is a joke to her. Nothing is real because it's all her imagination. She delights in every part of her day and, really, it's hard to convince her that you're serious when you're trying to get her in trouble.
How do I let the world at large intrude on her perfect personal construction of reality? There are times when I've hoped that she will forever stay in that fanciful world of hers, especially if she can pull me into it. How can I stand aside and watch her visions be crushed by the cruelness of the world around her?
I'm not talking about sheltering them--at least I'm not trying to. I'm not talking about hovering over them like a helicopter and controlling their world. I'm talking about letting them keep control of their world. Do I have the wisdom to let them foster their own cognitive realities? How can I keep from accidentally indoctrinating them into our materialistic and selfish culture?
I think I have to reach back. I have to continually remember that these are the same girls that were babies in my arms and that they deserve my compassion and understanding at every turn. The Dalai Lama says in the book The Art Of Happiness that humans are instinctively compassionate, that we need compassion to survive and that selfishness and possessiveness are acquired. He gives the example of breastfeeding:
Our first act after birth is to suck our mother's milk. That is an act of affection, of compassion. Without that act, we cannot survive. And that act cannot be fulfilled unless there is a mutual feeling of affection. From the child's side, if there is no feeling of affection, no bond, towards the person giving the milk, then the child may not suck the milk. And without affection on the part of the mother, then the milk may not come freely. So that's the way of life. That's reality.
Is it possible to hold onto that affection, as parent and child? To hone and practice that compassion, so that the child doesn't have to have their independent view of the world co-opted, hijacked, and made to conform? Or is conformity an absolute? Will I, without realizing, push my child away?
I want to embrace my daughters' dreams, whatever they may be. I know that theirs won't be the same as mine. But I am in awe of them, and if they can keep these pure and exciting views of the world, I know that they will be better views than I hold.
I see the world and the struggle and suffering of it. And I see my kids--the endless happiness and potential of them. To my older daughter, Solstice who is 3, every question must have an answer. She is endlessly curious about the world around her. Asking questions about clouds, about the meaning of words that she uses every day, the ages of people and characters from books, the location of anything and everything on a map, this is how she spends her day. Every bit of it is spent trying to get a firm grasp of the world around her and how it works. And she thinks I have an answer for everything. And even as an English professor, I'm stumped when she asks, "What does 'sure' mean, daddy?" or "Is this tomorrow? We woke up, didn't we?"
Not always having an answer is okay, I think, but I don't want to discourage her from satisfying that curiosity. I don't want her to stop asking questions, no matter how annoying it can get at times. I'm afraid that I could easily squash her desire to learn, or that media influences could convince her that the answers lie without instead of within. How do I properly keep her world intact instead of letting the outside world change her wonderful disposition?
And to my second daughter, Luna, there are no questions. The world is a delightful paradise of her own creation. I often catch glimpses of her doing complicated movements with her hands in the middle of the air and ask her what she's doing, "I'm making a cake," or "I'm putting on my tail," or "I'm doctoring Hogarth" are all common answers. Everything around her is a joke to her. Nothing is real because it's all her imagination. She delights in every part of her day and, really, it's hard to convince her that you're serious when you're trying to get her in trouble.
How do I let the world at large intrude on her perfect personal construction of reality? There are times when I've hoped that she will forever stay in that fanciful world of hers, especially if she can pull me into it. How can I stand aside and watch her visions be crushed by the cruelness of the world around her?
I'm not talking about sheltering them--at least I'm not trying to. I'm not talking about hovering over them like a helicopter and controlling their world. I'm talking about letting them keep control of their world. Do I have the wisdom to let them foster their own cognitive realities? How can I keep from accidentally indoctrinating them into our materialistic and selfish culture?
I think I have to reach back. I have to continually remember that these are the same girls that were babies in my arms and that they deserve my compassion and understanding at every turn. The Dalai Lama says in the book The Art Of Happiness that humans are instinctively compassionate, that we need compassion to survive and that selfishness and possessiveness are acquired. He gives the example of breastfeeding:
Our first act after birth is to suck our mother's milk. That is an act of affection, of compassion. Without that act, we cannot survive. And that act cannot be fulfilled unless there is a mutual feeling of affection. From the child's side, if there is no feeling of affection, no bond, towards the person giving the milk, then the child may not suck the milk. And without affection on the part of the mother, then the milk may not come freely. So that's the way of life. That's reality.
Is it possible to hold onto that affection, as parent and child? To hone and practice that compassion, so that the child doesn't have to have their independent view of the world co-opted, hijacked, and made to conform? Or is conformity an absolute? Will I, without realizing, push my child away?
I want to embrace my daughters' dreams, whatever they may be. I know that theirs won't be the same as mine. But I am in awe of them, and if they can keep these pure and exciting views of the world, I know that they will be better views than I hold.
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