The Talk

When my first-born was a year-and-a-half old, I attended a parenting class following the book 'How to Talk So Kids Will Listen and Listen So Kids Will Talk' by Adele Faber and Elaine Maislich. It was a good discussion, the videos were suitably dated and cheesy, yet the messages were still valuable and insightful. And I'd like to think they've helped me to be a better parent (although perhaps not so much lately, but I'm getting back). But what I remember most about that time - what I remind myself of - is the reason why I took the class. Yes, it was being taught by a friend who has always inspired me as a parent, and if she was teaching a class about parenting, then I was going to attend. But in addition to that, I actually went in thinking I would master the skills before I needed them, so that when these situations actually arose (because I did at least acknowledge that handling a child who is barely talking is much different than parenting an elder kid), I would already be an expert. HA!!! Let me repeat. HA!!!

In high school, I came across an excerpt from Ralph Waldo Emerson's 'Self Reliance', which I photocopied and taped to my bedroom wall:

"In every man's education, there comes a time when he arrives at the conviction that envy is ignorance; that imitation is suicide; that he must take himself for better or worse as his portion; that though the wide universe is full of good, no kernel of nourishing corn can come to him but through his toil bestowed upon that plot of ground which is given to him to till. The power which resides in him is new in nature, and none but he knows what that is which he can do, nor does he know until he has tried. Not for nothing one face, one character, one fact makes much impression on him, and another none. This sculpture in the memory is not without preestablished harmony. The eye was placed where one ray should fall, that it might testify of that particular ray. We but half express ourselves, and are ashamed of that divine idea which each of us represents.
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Whoso would be a man, must be a nonconformist. He who would gather immortal palms must not he hindered by the name of goodness, but must explore if it he goodness. Nothing is at last sacred but the integrity of your own mind. Absolve you to yourself, and you shall have the suffrage of the world.
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A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines. With consistency a great soul has simply nothing to do. He may as well concern himself with his shadow on the wall. Speak what you think now in hard words, and to-morrow speak what to-morrow thinks in hard words again, though it contradict every thing you said to-day. — 'Ah, so you shall be sure to be misunderstood.' — Is it so bad, then, to be misunderstood? Pythagoras was misunderstood, and Socrates, and Jesus, and Luther, and Copernicus, and Galileo, and Newton, and every pure and wise spirit that ever took flesh. To be great is to be misunderstood."

There's so much to this essay that I like, that I just couldn't narrow down the selection, but I want to bring out a single quote (which I recently misquoted):

"Speak what you think now in hard words, and to-morrow speak what to-morrow thinks in hard words again, though it contradict everything you said to-day."

And why not?! If all that you regret later in life is your strong conviction of a previous age, then great. I like to think back at myself from those days, and laugh at my ignorance and innocence, but it also reminds me of my hope, my ideals. That I could be a parent that could talk to my kids rationally instead of just yelling like crazy.

Just this morning, when one kid was so exhausted he wouldn't get ready, yes, I had to drag him out of bed and give him a bath, all while he was crying, but I didn't lose it (completely). I felt for him, and I did what I could for him to make him feel better (and get ready on time).

But anyhow, back to "the talk." A month or so ago, I went to another parenting lecture discussion, this time about how to talk to your kids about sex. And again, I went in thinking it's way too early for me to think about it, but I may as well start getting prepared. Not so that I'd be an expert and know exactly what to say, but so that I'd have a couple of years (ha!) to get used to the idea before it came up.

Besides, the kids already know some of it; when we're driving home close to bedtime, sometimes the stories they ask about are about when they were born (not too detailed or gory, but I add a little more detail all the time). But even then, there just seems to be so much that needs to be explained, and honestly, my memory of my lessons on the subject don't seem to be particularly helpful.

But this book, What's Happening to Me, has been incredible. It's written in a way that is approachable to my son. We read it as his bedtime story - just the two of us, after his brothers have gone to sleep - so it's a familiar, comfortable setting. And as everything is scripted out, I don't have to worry about figuring out the right words to say. It's quite thorough, but since I am just reading, I don't have to worry about being uncomfortable (because not knowing the "right" thing to say is the hard part, right?).

And one of the questions I had had was about if a sperm comes from a man, and an egg comes from a woman, and you need both to have a baby, "then what about when someone has two mommies? Because that happens, you know."

I have to say, that is one of my proudest moments. I don't have to teach him tolerance, because different lifestyles are just normal. He accepts them as readily as other relationships, so he doesn't have to be taught to "tolerate" them. It has been a lesson I have been trying to build up to, mentioning it offhand when it came up but not sitting the kids down and explaining it to them until, well, I figured around when I was having "the talk." Nice to know that one's already taken care of.

This is the same boy who, a few years back, complained that his brother was playing with something the wrong way, that he was doing it "the Michigan way". Hmmm... I guess prejudice is learned after all, isn't it? And I suppose it should say something that I was pretty proud of him then, too.

All in all, I'm sure I've alienated and pissed off several readers (both homophobes and Michigan fans alike), so I'll have to be sure to check my friend count on Facebook and see how that number changes.