Rights of a Child: Security
We have talked about love and now I would like to dive into something I am passionate about on a deeper level, and that is a child’s security.
As I remarked in the beginning, a human child is by far the weakest, most dependent animal when born. Its survival is completely dependent upon its parents.
Now introduce the world as you know it.
There are unlimited untold dangers around you, from the dog next door who always seems to get out of it’s yard and snap at you as you make your way to the car. There’s the kids hanging at the corner selling drugs, or maybe looking for some extra milk money. But it goes much further than that. There’s the construction workers belting out their extensive four-letter vocabulary as you walk by with little Johnny in the stroller, or the unlimited magazine covers in every grocery store in the country, flashing half naked bodies and headlines about what women should do in bed.
Wait, don’t get offended yet, there’s MORE!
…how about the unlimited flow of pornography on the internet, which now advertises on the main sites kids go to for video games, movie downloads and independent software creation and support. Then there’s the hard rock and rap that seems to have a thing for sex, dead cops and a burning society. No, no, wait–we also have the ever deteriorating scoring system in movies and television that plainly promotes homosexuality, drugs, rape, or the never ending cops shows that depict every crime involving pedophiles and rapists as common everyday occurrences.
I haven’t even scratched the surface and you know it.
Yes, we want our child to be physically secure and safe and that’s usually what a parent thinks when it comes their child’s safety. But what about the mind? The heart? Their very spirit?
Do not fear what can kill the body as much as what can kill the soul.
To me, the security of my children is of utmost importance and where my own past has prepared me to deal with a varied and corrupt future. Let’s look into some considerations….
Read MoreRights of a Child: Unconditional Love
I have been talking about love as a right a child should expect from a parent. In the previous article, principle based love was mentioned, to which a reader connected to ‘unconditional love’.
I agree.
What conflicts in my mind however (and this is only my opinion here, BTW) is the misunderstood application of ‘unconditional love’. Where parents all too often believe that turning the other cheek or ignoring the behavior of a child, regardless of what they do, is in fact unconditional love. Unconditional love is a separation of the sin from the sinner so to speak.
Principle based love is, I believe, a step further in combining accountability with mercy and understanding and instruction.
- Children can be taught at a very early age, the principles and concepts of accountability. Simon is a good example.
When Simon (age 3) writes on my white bedroom walls with a marker, I don’t stop loving him. Nothing can change that. However, I do hold him accountable and show him that his actions require him to make amends if possible. In this case, I show him how to clean the marks with a rag and soapy water, making the motions with him and then watch over him until he has cleaned the mark (within his ability to do so).
I expressed my disappointment, linking it to his action, but then I always increase my display of love as he is willing to follow my directions and make amends. Another good example with Simon is when I call him. Even when he has done something wrong and he knows he might be punished, he comes when called. Why? Because that is what’s expected. It is a consistent pattern reinforced over time through repetition. He knows that I will always talk with him first. We walk through the situation on his level of understanding and what he might have done wrong, explaining why it was wrong. I ask him questions to engage his mind and force his brain to come up with solutions, while recognizing his participation in the events. I give him that respect even as a child, to build his self-awareness, but also hold him accountable for what he’s done.
Again, afterward I pour my love out to him so he knows I adore him,and that I want him to make better choices in the future.
Principle based love is consistent and just.
Read MoreRights of a Child: The Child Itself
The state of the world disturbs me. It becomes almost unbearable to listen to the current news, to read the newspapers and listen to the lives taken, the violence, the atrocities against children in every part of the world…especially in our own backyard. As a father of 10+1 and a brother of 18, the thought of a person harming a child turns my stomach.
Its been burning in my mind and I want to share my own opinion with you in the hopes that you’ll share your views with me. To share with those out there looking for the strength to stand up for their own beliefs, hopefully raising the bar of parenthood. I know it’s a lofty goal, but it’s worth the fight.
It all started as a conversation with Kathi (my sweet wife) as we drove in the car, talking about this blog and how I wanted to share hope through Wanted Hero (my comics and novels). We talked about the Rights of Children and how we as adults have a distorted perspective at times when it comes to what our children actually have rights to, or miss what we should be addressing altogether.
My baby girl Carley Rosina, named after my mom.
First off, shouldn’t we look at the child in and of itself? When a child is brought into this world, it (he/she) comes with a set of obligations on our part. It comes with the child’s creation, because its something WE did. We CHOSE to use our bodies in such a way to create another. Make excuses if you think it’ll help, but once you engage with the opposite sex, you are electing to start a process which creates a drive to make a child. You are responsible.
Now consider that child. It is the weakest creature born on planet Earth in the animal kingdom. When they are born they require immediate and constant care, being completely dependent upon others (it’s parents) for its survival. It cannot walk, communicate or feed itself. You called. It came. Now what?
Too many parents or those contemplating parenthood consider this a ‘pastime’ rather than a life mission. Unfortunately I had many friends who’s parents didn’t show more than mild acknowledgment towards them, and they spent most of their time at my own home. In many instances it was the pursuit of worldly goods, rather than family excellence. Not the required day-to-day needs, but the pursuit of toys, fine clothes and status symbols of various types.
My little buddy, Simon Paul (age 3).
It’s not good enough to simply bring a child into existence, providing nothing more than sustenance and leaving it to its own design. It is your responsibility to provide a foundation for your child to grow and become a productive member of society with the skill set to provide for it’s own comfort and the ability to improve upon all it has and has become.
Namely Love, Security & Education.
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 MoreThe Truth About Death (My Mom Died–Part 3)
At my mom’s funeral in Riverton, Utah it was storming. Ice cold rain and wind. There were tents and chairs, but I stood in the rain. My wife and kids asked me to come under the canape, but I ignored everyone. I was in shock. The cold water soaking into my suit and rolling over my skin helped my mind to numb.
I remember a lot of people talking, saying things that just didn’t matter. Their opinions, their thoughts on trivial things. Crap, even my grandparents talked about what great missionaries they were, but hardly a word about my own mother, who was sitting there in the casket beside them. The only thing that mattered to me or held my attention was the bringing in of the casket, and my beloved father singing to his sweetheart for one last time.
When it was all over, the crowd rose and started finding members of my family to give their condolences. Kind, heart felt words that didn’t make much sense, but that’s all they knew to give. They would pat me on the shoulder or hug me, with advice like “you’re gonna get through this”, or “It’ll take time, but it’ll get easier”, or “Time will help heal.” The only family that held their tongue was Chad’s, the same family who had lost their little boy. They didn’t say anything. They didn’t need to.
They knew words would be more for them than for me, so they gave us hugs and moved on with a smile and tear of understanding. I just stood there, silent, my little children wrapped around my soaking legs, hugging me.
The last person there waited until everyone had passed and said their peace, never making a sound or a motion towards me until I was alone. A good friend of mine, Paul, who I hadn’t even noticed was at the funeral in the first place. He walked up slowly and waited for me to look at him. His words were golden to my ears, and they have helped me through the toughest parts of my life after my mom died.
Here’s what he said:
“Jaime, I wanted to wait until we were alone, so we could talk. I know you’re a blunt person, so I want to say something I think you’ll appreciate.
“The closest person to me in this world was my little brother. For the past 8 months, I have cared for him and bathed him and lifted his frail little body into bed each night as cancer ate him away to nothing. My sweet, kind baby brother, who gave no offense to the day I placed his body in the ground.
“People came to the funeral. They gave their condolences and they expressed their sorrows, saying the same things I heard your friends and family tell you today. But I want to give you a sliver of truth here, because you’re my friend and I love you.
“Everything they said to you is complete and total bullshit.
“Your mother was an incredible person. She gave birth to you, she loved you, she cared for you Jaime. The fact is, she owns a part of your heart. It belongs to her,and she’s not here anymore. No one else can fill that hole. It’s not possible. You’ll have that hole for the rest of your life…and it’s not going to be ok. and it’s NOT going to get easier! It hurts. You were robbed of a loved one and it’s perfectly ok to be pissed off, to be angry and to scream and shout.
“It’s going to hurt like hell for some time. Who knows how long. You’ll have good days and you’ll have days that feel like complete shit. But you’ll cope. You’ll find a way to take one day at a time. to breath in and out and put one foot in front of the other. And after a time you’ll manage and move on, not because it doesn’t hurt anymore–but because you understand that the feelings of pain are just a reminder of that hole which can’t be filled.
“It will never get better, Jaime. But you will learn to manage.”
He gave me a strong hug and left me standing there alone, with a truth I have cherished to this day.
Some might not like that type of talk, but Paul knew me and he knew I would fight if I just had a shred of truth to stand my ground. It has never gotten better. I miss my mom every day, and there are times when life gets so hard that I take that ghastly perfume she wore, spray a bit on my pillow and hope I’ll dream of her, walking with me, holding me and having one of the many talks I remember growing up.
But I have learned to manage.
Read MoreMy Latest Book
