Cooked Goose

Ten things I wish I knew in no particular order …

1. Didn’t think to ask when they do the circumcision. His was at his first in-hospital Dr. check-up. Early morning, day 2. I was not there. Whether you’re 2 days or 40 yrs old, someone taking a knife to boys is frightening to say the least. A familiar voice in the ear couldn’t have hurt. He sniffled in my arms the whole afternoon.
2. Not all diapers are created equal, nor are all babies built the same. Try some different brands to find one that fits your kid’s body. By chance, we discovered that a cheaper brand worked best for our kids. Fewer incidents of the dreaded “blast up the back”.
3. I wish I’d known my wife would suffer from postpartum depression. She didn’t understand it either, and was ashamed of her sadness. She cried everyday for weeks and did so in secret.
4. Compact strollers worked better for us than the huge, Cadillac, 20 cup-holder models.
5. Breast milk is better, but formula isn’t gonna ruin your kid. Your rabid desire to protect your kid is going to make you a bit irrational. Just know that.
6. Full-time breast feeding only lessens your chances of getting pregnant. Doesn’t rule it out. Who knew? Even with the menstrual cycle on pause. (Refer to post Speaking of Latex, March 12)
7. When they have an extremely high fever, you can double down on ibuprofen and acetaminophen. They get processed through different organs – kidneys and liver. Call a doctor to confirm.
8. If you can avoid it, do not take a big trip away from your family during the first year of your child’s life. They change almost daily.
9. A child isolates a mother. Good chance your wife will deal with loneliness.
10. Each day has it’s own joys and challenges. Do not wish for tomorrow; do not long for yesterday. The important life skill of living in the present is made all the more important in fatherhood.

Bonus: Listen to your wife’s intuitions. A mother’s intuition? Yeah, there is such a thing. I’m a believer.

When did discipline become a bad word?

My guess is it did with our tendency to paint things “black and white”. Our generation grew up inhaling the oppressive air that rises out of strict discipline, propriety, children knowing their place. When these become the highest values in parenting, the air reeks of judgement. Behavior modification becomes paramount; relationship gets shoved curbside. Our generation grew up choking on the stifling air of rules and judgement, and we determined that our kids would not experience this type of upbringing.

Now we’re running things, and shonuff we’re clearing the air. Out with all things restrictive, binding, firm.
“Let freedom reign. Let them explore, learn. Take down the boundaries. Put away the rules for now. Yes! Right!”
“Ah … wait a minute man, your kid in his freedom just clocked my kid with that plastic hammer.”

The love and freedom revolution in parenting is all nice until some kid gets clocked with a plastic hammer. The music really stops when that kid is your kid. As your kid is crying his eyes out, the ultra-mellow, understanding parent who gently reasons with the three year old assailant is going to put this whole new parenting focus into question for you. Trust me. More often then not, the kid who rocked your kid is not even paying attention to their parent. You can see the wheels spinning: “If the worst I get for going off is a soothing talking to, then … well, go-off I will. Yeah, yeah, Pops. You done? My hammer?”

After Pops releases the hammer wielding terror back into general population, he’ll look over at you with a smile, and a shrug,
“Sorry about that. Kids, right?”
“Nah, man. If my kid did that, he’ll have to deal with me in a way that will make him think twice before raising that plastic hammer over his head again.”

My Dad got it wrong. Thinking he could not have both, he chose fear rather than love. Today, we choose love rather than fear. Judgement isn’t a bad word, neither is rules, and not even fear. It’s not that “black and white”. We need both. Set a foundation of love that chases out fear. And in this loving relationship, teach your child that particular type of fear he/she cannot live without.

“Nothing moves you so much as beauty and pain.”

I wish I could remember who said this. It’s a great quote; it’ll have to go anonymous for now.

I’ve stated my belief that early on we all take a look inward. I don’t understand the mechanics of what I’ve been calling a look inward. No, I haven’t exactly witnessed it. So, yes, I admit that my case is largely circumstantial. What I have seen in young children is a pretty sophisticated level of what we call a conscience. I’ve seen shame. Hiding.

With this look inward, we all see we’re human. We see limitations – a wanting. Being human, we do not always do what we know to be right. Being human, we cannot physically do all we want or need. At our best, we’re left with “I’m doing the best I can. I’m not perfect.” In an uncertain world, a broken world full of pain, that’s just not good enough. Our limitations swing the door wide open to fear.

Pay close attention, and you’ll see your kid begin to interact with this fear. Some dumb kid will say something to your daughter. The ridiculous judgment is embarrassing; it’s painful – never mind that it’s not true. She’ll figure without much conscious deliberation that she never wants to experience the sting of another’s judgment. The pain plants the fear in the fertile soil of her human heart, and move her toward one of two well worn paths: “Run and Hide Avenue” and “Work, Work, Work Blvd”.

On “Run and Hide Avenue”, there are lots of darting eyes. We walk about safely, quietly. People pleasers are always saying the right thing. On “Work, Work, Work Blvd” everyone is busily heading somewhere. You see, we’ve found a strength, and we intend to work it to greatness. By greatness, we’ll rise above. We either hide from pain or we rise above it. They’re both dead end roads. At best the most successful only defer the inevitable. At the end of the road, when we discover it has not led us away from fear we’re left with hatred, anger, and hopelessness.

This is the fear you chase out with love. You say to her, “I love you. Not because you’re beautiful. You are that, but that’s not why I love you. I love you, not because you’re smart. You are that, but that’s not why I love you. I love you, not because you’re funny, or because you’re really good soccer player. No, I love you because you are my daughter. I love you because of who you are. And I will never stop loving you.”

You chase fear with this love. She won’t believe you at first. But don’t ever stop telling her, showing her. Even as she heads toward those other paths. Follow her onto them. Hold her hand and keep telling her. Keep telling her until she believes you, and you see the fear wash away.

The older I get, the things about which I am certain become fewer and fewer. There used to be so much “black and white” – clear, bold, behind hard lines with a sliver of gray between them. Now, the lines are ruptured – the gray overflowing. I don’t relish it. “Black and white” is simpler, clearer. It’s a easier world to live in. And besides, I like being right; I like knowing. I don’t like uncertainty – the disquieting affects of the fog. Yet, I get the sense that I’m in a better place. So much of life happens in the gray. I can stand on a box and pontificate about how life ought to be, but I’d rather live. More importantly, I want my kids to live. And if it means, I need to wade through the gray to help them identify a few markers, well then “Small price to pay.” Don’t you think? So, come on. Let us wade through the gray together.

Let’s start with those mushrooms … I mean fear. I think a good place to start with fear is to look at the self. In other posts I’ve written my belief that very early in a person’s life, there is a look inward (My guess is that it begins about the time a child becomes aware of the shame of nakedness). The soul is brutally honest with what it sees. And although we do not have the cognitive sophistication to clearly interpret and articulate what we see, I think every person arrives in his or her own way to the same assessment: There is a wanting. A lack. Weakness. Limited. Broken.

By these words I’m not suggesting everyone sees themselves as some terrible mistake. I think it begins with the natural limitations we all have. We cannot see into the future. We hunger and thirst. We need sleep. We die. A child is more acutely aware of this because they are dependent.

An honest look gives rise to fear. It is at this place that this very basic fear gets fueled by lies, and spins into some toxic stuff. The environment and our fragile self make us acutely vulnerable to this bad fear – dread, loathing. It is at this very same place that the basic fear can also be seasoned with truth. In an environment of love and trust, a parent can collect the honest pieces gathered by a child and erect a coherent picture. “You are a person. Frail and imperfect. And I love you. Because I do, I need to teach you that you are not the center of the universe. Forget ruling the world, as great as you are, you don’t even rule this house.”

Even fear is not a matter “black and white”. It’s easier to say it’s all bad, and try to rid ourselves of it. The trouble is I don’t think that’s true. In the gray there is some good, healthy fear – a fear based on truth. We need to find it and guide our children to it.