Is there anything you wouldn’t do for your children?
I’ve been giving this question a great deal of thought lately. What wouldn’t I do for one of my kids? Hypothetically speaking, of course.
Would I give up a kidney? Naturally.- Bone marrow? Sure. Preferably if I could look at Hugh Laurie during the procedure.
- Would I stay up half the night cutting embroidery thread? (Wouldn’t anyone?)
- Would I sell my body? (More to the point, would there be any takers?)
- Last but not least, what about the proverbial “beg, borrow, or steal?”
We teach our children in so many ways, constantly. How to deal with the ups and downs of life, and perhaps what to expect in life, as they absorb our words and actions, our presence or absence, the nature of our involvement and certainly, our ability to let go. There are times we insinuate ourselves into their lives in ways they cannot understand. They don’t like it, but we tough it out because we must. We know that it’s in their best interest. Sometimes we back off, knowing that’s in their best interest, too.
It’s a bit of a minefield – this tiptoeing through what is and isn’t going to be best for them. Support and hard knocks. The right balance of the two.
Hardship teaches resilience
Hardship hits most of us at some point, and how we handle it instructs our children. Kristen at Motherese spoke eloquently on this issue, as she articulated her own discovery of the distinctions between toughness and resilience, and how parents may serve as examples of both.
One of the great lessons in my childhood came from my mother, a woman whose erratic moods and behaviors were a challenge to survive, but her character, nonetheless, impressive in key ways.
When I was 8, I started learning French in public school – at the time – part of an experimental program. By age 12, I was in love with the language, and desperately wanted to spend a summer in France. There was no precedent – or means – for that sort of overseas travel. My mother said: If you earn it, you can have it.
I went to work at the age of 12. I did everything and anything I could to earn money – babysitting, extra chores, yard work, typing. At the end of three and a half years, I had saved $1400. Just enough for two months in France. That summer, living as part of a French family, changed the course of my life.
Creative problem-solving
Challenges always force our hand; we must generate new ideas, and give ourselves additional choices. This is true when hardship hits, and just as true in daily parenting or the workplace.
These past evenings, I’ve watched my teenage son struggle against tight deadlines, his own fatigue, and constraints of budget and supplies as he’s worked to complete critical projects. The advanced art projects are the most difficult, requiring specialized materials and considerable time. It’s been grueling and unpleasant for both of us, but last night, it was fascinating. Just before dinner, I was (politely) dispatched with $20 in my pocket to forage at a local craft store, as I insisted my son sleep after one all-nighter, knowing he was facing another.
I returned with every conceivable $2 option I could find. I cooked my teenager a steak and potato, then sat back and watched. He checked out each item, immediately dismissed two, and figured out a means to use a third that I simply wouldn’t have come up with. As it turns out, it was the least expensive solution, cleverly implemented – and yes – I stayed up alongside him, cutting embroidery thread like the hired help, which he twisted, taped and tucked into the puncture holes of a ceramic head.
Not enough parental involvement? Hardly. Too much? I may never know.
France on a dime?
What’s next on the creative hit parade?
I have no idea. Every day seems like another adventure with this kid. My goals at his age (and younger) were very focused – all paths led to France. And once I’d accomplished that, I set about securing a trip to the Soviet Union to improve my Russian. I earned it, and this time, in a year.
The summer I was 16, I wandered the darkened streets of (then) Leningrad, washed in the public baths of Moscow, and lived an experience I’ll never forget.
My son and I face significant challenges before he is launched in another year. As a team, we’ll have to sort through them. I expect bumps in the road, more creative solutions, and then some. Will I be selling my body? Offering up a kidney? Let’s hope not. But if required, I imagine I would. Are there some things that I wouldn’t do, depending upon what is at stake?
Of course. But where does that leave us for now?
I’m not in need of Hugh Laurie just yet (well, perhaps I should rephrase – I’m not in need of Dr. House to dig out my bone marrow). But I will hang tight to offering the best possible example of lessons learned in childhood, and figured out along the way.
© D A Wolf
I believe that part of parenting is learning to sacrifice. It is something you automatically do. It isn’t always easy and sometimes becomes frustrating. But, when you feel that love that you develop for your child, your own flesh and blood, it is something you willingly do.
Something I find fascinating is that parents sacrifice sleep no matter how old their child is. When they are newborn, you get up with them all night. When they are sick–no matter what age–you hold them all night. When they reach the teenage years, you stay up and help them with projects. And, in between those periods, you stay awake because of worry. The worry never disappears.
Oh Amber. I don’t want you to think you won’t sleep for the next 18 or 20 years! (Though you may have your sleep marred for that long. But you sort of get used to it. And you’re right, the worry never disappears. But someone has to keep Clairol wash-away-that-gray hair coloring in business, don’t they?)
Great question, BLW! Being a parent has taught me the concept of self-sacrifice. I’d give up a lot voluntarily. I’d even absorb his pain when he cries so he wouldn’t feel any if I could. And yet I also struggle to remind myself daily that as much as I’d like to be there for my son with every struggle he faces, he has his own separate life from me that is his to live as he chooses, as he learns. For now, I resign myself to the fact that he’s still little and needs me. But when he’s 18 and no longer needs me, I wonder what questions I’ll be asking myself then?
Wow, you were a hardworking kid!
They will still need you at 18. They just need you differently. (l’m still a hardworking kid! But in higher heels! 🙂 )
Your post puts me in mind of those strange-but-true stories of mothers lifting cars off of their injured children after an accident. Not only do I believe that most of us would indeed do anything for our children, I also think that we – like those supermoms – are wired to be able to achieve seemingly impossible feats in order to do so.
And you know you’ve set my mind a-racing and my heart a-fluttering with talk of Hugh Laurie. So how about selling a kidney, as long as Dr. House could be the one to extract it? 😉
I love it! “Mini-mom lifts large lorry! News at 11…” I think you’re right, Kristen. Somehow, we’re wired to accomplish the (seemingly) impossible.
Now as for Dr. House, my fellow Hugh Laurie fan… oh, those eyes of his… and that stubble… He’d have to stick around for the recuperation as well. And it would not be speedy, I assure you.
What a great mom you are, running to the Art store on an ambiguous errand AND staying up to offer him moral support (and thread cutting skills). He might not appreciate it fully at this point, but you’ve shown your love and commitment to him in such a tangible way.
When I saw the title of this post, I thought about things that parents maybe shouldn’t do for their kids. Sometimes, parents have to step back and let kids make their own mistakes, learn things the hard way. And that, I imagine, is incredibly hard to do.
Ambiguous errand indeed, Eva. That’s the ideal way to describe it. You’re right about the things we shouldn’t do, as well. But it’s such a case by case basis – each instance, each child. The short term consequences, and the longer term. That’s what makes it all such a minefield, and why no formulaic approach to parenting can ever provide the answers.
nice story! you were a very rambunctious young woman
Were? 😉
I meant to say that you started at a young age!
Just remember don’t lose one of those pretty shoes jamming it up someones…
I can’t imagine there is anything I wouldn’t do for my children. But I know that I am only at the beginning of that road. The cutting-thread-all-night road, that is. I feel suspended in time, actually. I can see the future and the challenges looming. They already present themselves in watered-down ways and I ALREADY feel like I am failing. But cutting thread I can do. And if that is what it takes–and I can somehow relate everything to that–I think I might be okay. Who knows. Give me a little Laurie and I think everything would be okay.
The nice thing about cutting thread was – in fact – that it was as if I were helping out 10 years ago with some project. Of course, this was a little different, in that I was the “workshop help” under the lead of the artist, but to me – the mother – it was surprisingly pleasant. I will say, I could use a little Laurie when this long week finally comes to a close… and sounds like you could, too. Maybe he makes “House” calls? 😉
I can’t even look at Dr. House without thinking that I’m about to have a seizure—so there’s something already that I won’t even do for my kids, watch House with them.
I can only think that your karma and your spiritual wealth accounts are rising fast, but I know what you mean about struggle vs. fluffing the pillows in our kids’ lives. I too look at adversity as character building, but wish to protect my kids and give them every advantage (i.e. just the right amount of love vs. limits, trying to be sure I don’t project my dreams into them, etc.). Yet the safe and fortunate kids often feel that their lives are a bit boring, they seem to lack that sort of initiative and drive that got you to France and Russia as a young person, and they have no real way of knowing what not having whatever they have would really feel like.
And on top of that the world our kids must navigate is so different, or so it seems, from the one we grew up in. I guess the good news is although you were cutting thread all night, unlike the Fates, you didn’t have to share one eye with two other thread-cutters… and, unlike House, a touch less hung in the balance, there was no mis-diagnosis and everyone lived (that’s my sort of show).
Read this yesterday and then headed out to pick up #6 and cart him wherever it was he needed to be. It is truly a blur. Today is a quiet day with him. He is getting the whole plan ahead thing as he asked today if, after he mowed the neighbor’s lawn, could someone take him to the girlfriend’s house. They are going to look through old yearbooks – yes, at 15.
I do believe we would do anything we can for our children. Now, off to see if I can find Hugh Laurie locally or at least someone who has penetrating eyes and a little stubble.
You’re a good mom, BLW! But you knew that 🙂
I’m impressed at how industrious you were at such a young age. THAT is resilience!
Ahhh, House. Most recent episode FINALLY made it to Hulu this week. I am caught up. (On n’a pas de télévision par câble.)
Dreaming of France at 12? A born Francophile, BLW!
Well, I’m guilty of all this stuff. I am of the sink or swim variety when it involves things that are within his control, like proper studying, respect for teachers, etc., but when there’s something I can do to make his life better, when I know without it things will not go well (hint: which high school he would attend) well, there you go. Totally co-dependent mom.
And awesome on the major Francophile tendencies from such a young age, BLW!