Parenting: The catch 22
It was a long but good weekend, starting off with Cesilea’s 18th birthday, charged with loud and excited youth in celebration of another semi-adult joining their tribe.
Saturday and Sunday brought some challenges in reminders of how our parenting style and system has changed over the years. It came up while observing Jami Taylor and Ethany coming out of their room several times in the late evening (when they’re supposed to be a asleep), to tattle on siblings when it was completely unnecessary.
Parents have a difficult job, just from the duty of providing and caring for the physical needs of a child. With each new life comes an unlimited string of variables no one can predict, from personality traits to when the dog might be shaved bald and painted an off pink. Now compound that stress level by having the responsibility of providing their emotional, mental and spiritual needs as well. This is no easy task.
The main catch 22 of the parenting equation, however, is the job itself.
You see, while you have your offspring under a microscope, they have one firmly fixed on you as well.
Babies are MEANT to be cute, so you totally forget what they'll be like once they're teenagers...
As young children grow into teenagers and momentarily become retarded by the ‘I know more than you could possibly understand’ gene, they fail to realize that we as parents are plagued by a no win situation. We are trying to teach and guide while trying to learn and grow ourselves. This also means we, as the parents make mistakes and errors in our judgment as we try to perfect our job.
Heaven forbid! Mistakes you say? Aye, mistakes.
Yet children, whether it be from a genetic predisposition or simple youth prejudice, rarely give us the benefit of the doubt (or leeway) they openly and boldly demand (or hope) we give them. We have the double burden of trying to teach our kids while being examples worthy of emulation, while they scrape our tired, spent bodies across their unyielding microscope looking for flaws.
When my oldest children approached me not long ago and asked why I didn’t treat them the same way I do their little siblings, all I could do was shrug my shoulders and give them hugs.
“I didn’t know how to do that when you were little. I’m sorry.”
It’s actually a profound revelation for teenagers if you can sit them down to have arational talk on this subject, but for those who simply have a house full of hormone dominant teenagers who can only see their one point of view, take heart. You’re far from alone.
It happens to every single parent on planet Earth.
Welcome to the club.
Read MoreYour mother, my beloved.
Dear Children,
I’m a strict parent. I know it’s not a secret and that will not change. Each family member has duties, responsibilities and rules to follow so we can achieve and maintain our happy little home. Doesn’t always work, I know, but you have all seen that it works far more than not. Your mother and I love each other and we love all of you dearly. We base our decisions upon principle, not the popular whims of your friends or their own families, which at times has caused friction between us. The rest of the chaos in our home is based on selfishness. Feelings so important to us that we simply will not listen to another point of view or humble ourselves to be instructed by those with more wisdom and experience.
I’ve tried to show you that most of the worlds problems are from nothing more than a root in selfishness. Think about that one for a spell and see where you come up. Blame world hunger, war, the bad politicians we have in every facet of this government on whatever else you like, but 9 out of 10 times it’s gonna be complete horse crap.
It all eventually comes down to selfishness.
In this family, there is a patriarchal order. You don’t have to agree with that, doesn’t matter in the least because this family is not a democracy. You may elect to establish one in your own family someday, but in this family, everyone has a place and a measure of respect, simply because of who you are. I don’t yell at you or spank you or even ground you. I talk with you and strive to work out the problems between us. I love you. You’re part of our family unit and that means something, from birth to death. It means something to me, your father.
However, in this family you must realize mom is the Queen.
I love each of you children with all my heart. I would die for you and take life for you, but someday each and every one of you are going to leave this home and start families or lives of your own. What will remain is your mother and I. She doesn’t know this, but one of the things I felt when we met so long ago, was an excitement about growing old together. To care for her, protect her and cherish her forever.
I loved her first. I loved her the most. I will love her last.
You don’t understand this yet, but the love I have for your mother cannot be defined. Not without making it sound less than what it truly is. Words truly cannot describe the experiences of growing old together and building dreams together, sharing the pain and suffering, the stress and grief along with untold joy. You must experience it for yourself.
Just know this: I choose her.
If you act in such a way as to divide this house and make me choose, you will lose every time. I am on the side of correct principle. Your mother also lives by principle and is why she holds the respect of so many, including myself. You fight her because of your selfishness, wanting to have your choices supported, regardless of who they may hurt. I caution you not to alienate your greatest defender…because she has kept your butts away from many a swatting over the years.
She is the mercy in our home. I am not. Keep that in mind.
Know that when you step outside the bounds of your place and bring disrespect upon this family and most particularly upon your own mother, you chose to go where I cannot follow. At that point, she no longer stands as your mother. She then becomes my wife and I will defend and protect her from you.
As your father I have many expectations, hopes, desires and requests. However, I have one absolute demand:
Respect and honor your mother. She is Queen of my heart, my home and my family. She is my life, my love and my beloved. God help any person who wounds her heart and gets within my reach.
She brought you into this life, bearing you in pain and anguish. Has raised you in love, caring for you, cooking for you, cleaning your clothes and educating you. She deals with your tantrums, your misconceptions, open rebellions and unrighteous accusations. Yet she bears with you in patience, in love and cares for you regardless, unwilling to leave you to your own design. All these things she does to help you develop and have a good life. Above all, she is your advocate with me, when many times you act in such a way I felt it would be wise to simply make another.
You are free to feel as you wish towards me, but I’m here as your father first, then your friend, not the reverse. I now draw the line at your feet and plead with you not to cross it.
Please, respect and love your mother.
This is non negotiable.
Love,
Your Father.
Read MoreA Father of 10 (+1)
I’m sitting here at the Riverton Library in Utah and watching an adorable brother and sister (not more than 3 years old), sheepishly follow behind their mother. The little boy saw a colorful book on one of the lower display cases and reached out to touch it…bringing down the entire display, crashing to the floor. The look on his face was one of shame. His mother looked at him sharply and his tiny little shoulder rounded as he squeaked “I sorry.”
The woman behind the help desk casually walked over, knelt down with a huge smile on her face and whispered ‘Looks like it crashed, huh. Well, that’s ok, it was time to change the books anyway, you go with your mom.” The librarian was greeted with appreciation from both the mother and the little boy, who had the huge world of wrecking a display taken from off his bitty shoulders.
That librarian has class.
The whole scene got me thinking about being a dad. Being married to the absolute love of my life, and having the goal of a dozen children. Kathi says she wants 13 now, but we’re currently debating on that. Now, I’m a religious minded person. I link everything back to God, but I don’t want to preach on this subject. Instead, I wanted to simply share my thoughts on being a father, and especially a father of 10 (with one on the way). It has given me some serious experiences (which never seem to end), and have forced me to look at life from perspectives I would never have considered otherwise.
First off, there’s nothing better in my mind, than being a father. I was fortunate enough to have my best friends born to me as my own children. We have seven girls and three boys. When I meet someone and they find out I have ten children, they gasp and ask ‘how many of each?’ I sometimes remark, “Oh, they’re all human.” or “We have all boys but seven.”
No, I don’t have anything against my beautiful girls. Not many men get kissed by eight girls twice a day, every day. They find me during my morning ritual of rushing, or scream when I’m almost at the door. If I’m unfortunate enough to get out of the house and forgotten anyone, I’m sure to hear it when I get home, or from a disturbing phone call as soon as I reach the office. However, the boys are easier. Yeah, Simon, my 3 year old son wants a kiss form dad, or he demands a phone call from me later to reassure him he was not forgotten…but other than that, my sons are joyful chaos.
Just what a rough dad needs.
One of the aspects of parenthood that some don’t understand, is that each child is unique and brings a separate joy to my life that cannot be duplicated. I cried and embraced my father and father-in-law when Ditto (Cesilea) was born. Yet you would have thought a male child had never existed when Evan was born, the way I ran around the hospital, screaming triumph. Evan is the second child, just turned 16 and weighs in at 240lbs of muscle.
Did I mention my wife is Samoan? Yeah, I have incredible looking kids, with the OOOMPH to back it up.
Kathi and I pondered over the children late last night, and sometimes I think my life would simply crumble if I didn’t have all of them. With all the diapers, screaming, arguing and rebellion comes the laughter, love, kindness and triumph of a lesson learned when the day is done. I wouldn’t trade that for anything in this wide world.
…unless they were REALLY bad….
BTW, if you’re looking for some fun father/parent blogs, check out some of my favorites, such as the Good Father Blog, and Father of the Blog.
Read MoreMy Latest Book
