Scott's Guide to Parenting

I do a lot of things.  Writer, martial artist, maniac... But there are very few things that actually define me. Those are things that are so ingrained on my system that to deny them would be to deny myself. Perhaps chief among those things is that I am, and always shall be, a father. It doesn't matter how important the meeting, how near the deadline, or how tight the budget, my kids come first. Period. Deal with it, or get out of my life. 

When I was younger, I didn't want kids.  Frankly, I was terrified of them. What could I possibly have to offer a child? I'm certainly not anyone's idea of a role model, and  as a grumpy selfish bastard, I figured children would have better things to do than hang out with a pile of misery like me. At least, that's what I told everyone. The truth wasn't far off the mark, but there was more to it. See, my biggest fear was that I would let them down. That they would hurt me in some way. That I would screw them up and make little monsters that were just like me. Also, children are noisy, smelly, and expensive. Don't roll your eyes at me. If you're a parent, you know it's true. If you say it's not, you're lying and you know it. 

I now have two kids, Anna and Zoe.

I wasn't ready to be a father when I met Anna. She was a year and a half old when her mother (Tabatha) and I started dating. But I fell so very much in love with her. That little smile, her bright eyes, her blonde hair... She melted my cold heart and I embraced being a father. And I made mistakes. Lots of 'em. And one of the biggest ones was being over-protective. Turns out, there's a fine line between protecting your kid and suffocating them, and it's amazing how easy it is to tap-dance across that line. 

Protecting vs. Smothering

See, we all are guilty of making the same asinine promise to our children. You know which one it is.  Sing it along with me. "I'll never let anything happen to you." You've said it, haven't you? You know you have. And the sentiment is a beautiful one. What we mean is "I will protect you. I'd take a bullet for you. I will save you from heartache and physical pain. I will shield you from all that is wrong with the world." Cue music, hand me my cape. And, for a while, you can keep that promise. For a while, we put ourselves between our children and their poor decisions, or things out of our control. We are a human car-seat, a loving cushion of flesh and bone to fend off the monsters of the world. 

We all wear tights.  Picture it. 

But what few of us realize is that, by fulfilling that promise, we do our children a disservice. Before you recoil in horror, hear me out. If you were anything like I was as a kid, I learned a lot of hard lessons. Oh, sure, my parents told me "don't do that dangerous thing" or "you should be doing this other thing that's better for you," but when I was a kid, I needed to do those things. After all, my parents were old, right? And times were different when they were kids, right? And besides, how badly could it hurt to put my finger into the empty lightbulb socket with electricity running through it?  

Hint... Don't do this...

Often times, as parents, we have to let our kids fall so they'll learn. We don't want to. We would rather take every fall for them. But what will they do when we're not around anymore? See, sometimes, all we can do is give the advice. It's up to them whether they take it or not. And it's hard. You see your kid making a mistake, and you want to grab them and say "what the hell is wrong with you?" But that doesn't help. It doesn't teach them anything. All it does is make them resentful, or more careful about doing things where you can see them.  See, if you eliminate the consequences of bad choices, those choices aren't bad anymore. There's nothing to teach them to not do it again. And then the fall becomes harder, and far more painful, when the kid is out from under your watchful eye. 

I'll give you an example. My youngest was (this past term) a sophomore in high school. Every day, I asked her the same questions:  Do you have homework? Any tests coming up? How was your day? How are your grades? The answers that came back were usually "nope, nope, fine, fine." It drove my wife insane. But I had a plan. See, colleges typically look at the last two years of high school (junior and senior years) and SAT/ACT scores. So the sophomore year is, essentially, the last year where a student can screw around and still not mess their life up. So the plan was this: Let her deal with it. Let her figure out how to study so it best helps her, and give her a bit of leash. It worked out about as well as you think it did. 

Pictured: Grades

Oh, she passed. Barely. But it opened her eyes to the fact that her approach wasn't working. And that break-through was what she needed to get her head straight and start looking at her grades more seriously.  Which brings me to the next point. 

Yes, we let them fall. But when they fall, we are always on hand to pick them back up. When they call, we dust off the cape and help them back to their feet. As Bruce Wayne's father said: Why do we fall? So we can learn to pick ourselves back up. 

I love my kids. I love them more than my own life, and I'd give anything for them. Some of the most rewarding moments of my life came from them, as well as some of the happiest, and tearful, moments. No one can bring me up or down like my daughters. And I'm not saying a completely hands-off approach is in order here. I'll still prevent them from doing anything life-threatening or catastrophic. I'd take a bullet for them, jump in front of a train, or even, yes, keep my mouth closed. Does that make me a good or bad father?  I don't know. Neither one of my kids came with a users' manual. But like every other parent, I'm just trying to muddle through. 

Until next time...

SAJ