Am I ready for this?

I think my sons deserve a better father. What I mean is I’m not sure I am the most capable person when it comes to raising children.

The other day, I was getting very annoyed with Jacob over something so simple and he told me “I’m just… I’m just trying to help and you’re being really mean right now.” I felt so bad, and it made me really start thinking about how my children see me and how I am raising them.

I have a difficult time reconciling the fact that I am so faulty and yet I have two raise these boys to become good people.

I guess on the whole nature of man argument I would side more John Locke than Thomas Hobbes. I believe that my sons were born good, maybe even perfect; and it is my fault they fall into certain patterns or make certain decisions. As John Locke once said, “Parents wonder why the streams are bitter, when they themselves have poisoned the fountain.” Every statement, every action, every harsh word and loving kiss affects them in a particular way. So what am I doing to them? Will they become good men?

I don’t think I am “ruining” them. But I worry about how they will view me when they are older.

Will they think I was a loving dad?

A fun dad?

Will they be able to trust me?

Will they respect me?

I don’t want them to look back and see me as a demanding or difficult father, but I also don’t want to give them the run of the house. I want them to see me as stern, but fun. Loving and caring, calm and understanding. How can I do all of this, when I still haven’t worked all these things out myself?

I have such great hope for them, but I can’t imagine that I am the best man for the job. Parenting is such an interesting endeavor. We are given infinite responsibility to care for, love, and raise a child and yet given no preparation or experience. It’s like being promoted to the president of the company before you’ve even worked in the mailroom. And, for me, it’s an overwhelming prospect.

I’ve heard people say, “Just love them, and things will be okay.” Really? I’m not sure I agree. Maybe I worry too much, maybe I try to intellectualize and assess too much.

I guess, one of the points of the blog is to have a record of my thoughts and feelings, so my children know that I really did try. And one day, maybe they can read it and know that they were raised by someone that didn’t know what they were doing, but did the best they could.

Well, if that one comment from Jacob made me look at the whole of my parenting skills then I can’t imagine what the future will bring.

But, as John Locke (again) once said, “There is frequently more to be learned from the unexpected questions of a child than the discourses of men. “

Christmas Stuff

Christmas is just around the corner and every year I get this little feeling in my stomach like something just isn’t quite right. I’ve had this feeling ever since I was younger, but I’ve never really done anything about it. I always feel like there is just way too much stuff. Too many toys, too much clothes, too much of everything.

Don’t get me wrong, I love the holidays and I love getting and giving. But I just feel like maybe this whole thing should be re-thought out. And now with children I feel it even more so.

I am worried that my boys may be growing up in a house where they have so much of what they want they cannot separate it from what they need. And Christmas is the pinnacle of this situation. What do my children need? Very little I suppose: clothes, food, shelter, love. But toys make life more fun and interesting. And books will help them learn.

This year for Christmas my wife and I decided to repurpose an old end table as a play kitchen. It was inexpensive and fun to build and I think the kids will really like it… for a while. And this is where the problem lies. They have both sets of grandparents and numerous aunts and uncles so toys will be in abundance. And they will enjoy each one, for some time. Soon they will tire of this toy or that, they may break it, or never play with it. But we still have it. Crowding up the living room or playroom or kitchen. What can I do about all this stuff?

I wish there was a nice way to ask for something else. Money for a college fund. Tickets to a musical. Membership to a museum. But most people like to give toys. And don’t get me wrong. I love toys; I loved getting them as a kid and I love giving them to my nieces and nephews. And I know that one of the big reasons to give the gifts is because you get joy out of seeing them happy.

But happiness can come from so many different places. This year the thing I am looking forward to most is the party we are having the Sunday before Christmas. There will be many family and friends sharing this time with us. There will be singing and laughter and talking and joyfulness. That is what I love about Christmas. It’s such a great gift to share with everyone. And I know that the memories from these parties will be what my sons will keep with them their whole lives. So what to do with all the stuff? I don’t know.

It’s just such a fine line to walk. I hope I can find a way (adopt a family, perhaps?) to show my sons that people have it much worse than they do. And I hope they appreciate everything they get and don’t become absorbed with the idea of more and more stuff.

Being More Than I Was

So, I really love being a father. Lately I began to understand that the longer I’m a father the more I realize my sons are making me a better man.

What I mean is, I keep thinking to myself “What kind of men do I want to raise?” and I continually give myself answers. But those answers come with one giant caveat: Do I do that?

Do I hold open doors for women?
Do I, at all times, treat my wife (their mom) with respect?
Do I consistently use manners?
Do I use foul language?
Do I gossip?
Do I laugh at others expense?

You get the idea.

I can look at something like lying and honesty and I know I can read my boys stories from Aesop’s Fables (like the Boy Who Cried Wolf).
We can study the Ten Commandments: Thou shalt not bear false witness against thy neighbour. (Exodus 20:16).
I can quote from Kant, “By a lie a man throws away and, as it were, annihilates his dignity as a man.”
Or Emerson, “Every violation of truth is not only a sort of suicide in the liar, but is a stab at the health of human society. “
Or Socrates, “False words are not only evil in themselves, but they infect the soul with evil.”
I can even talk to my sons about the health effects of lying: (http://health.yahoo.com/experts/drmao/7393/lying-is-bad-for-your-health/).
I can even stress to my children that I love them unconditionally and they should always tell me the truth. I can let them know that their behavior will never make me love them less but lying will make me trust them less.

But the one time – the one time – we stay too long at the park and we pull into the driveway and I turn around and look at them and say “If your mom asks why we are late tell her we got a flat tire/ there was traffic/ we got lost.” The one time I ask them to lie, it’s all over.

Not only will I lose everything I’ve tried to teach them, but now they won’t believe me. They will lose respect for me and I have shown them that they can lie to their mother.
So, I need to be a better man.

I need to act in accordance with my own rules. In other words, “walk the talk.” And that is so very difficult.

I feel like parenting is constant vigilance. And I don’t mean keeping a watchful eye on your child to avoid bumps and bruises, or making sure they don’t watch too much TV, or watching what they eat. I mean constant vigilance of yourself and your actions.

Looking in the mirror each day and asking, “Would I allow my sons to behave like this?” can be incredibly challenging.

I’ve recently made some changes in my own life and I’m amazed at the disconnect between my expectations and my actions. I am not the gentleman I want my sons to be. But I think I have time, I hope I have time, time to change me and time for them to follow my example.

I hope I can become the man my sons deserve. I struggle daily to model the actions and the attitudes I hope to instill in them. And I’m thankful that I have them, because now I have an incentive to become the man I should have become long ago.