We’ll Love the Fuck out of Em’
Love unconditionally
Guide Gently (when humanly possible)
Teach and Allow Autonomy
Encourage Freedom of Expression (however weird they appear)
Teach them Boundaries
Teach them healthy eating (greens, fish and all things not mac n cheese)
Make them adhere to a healthy bedtime (preferably duration matching yours)
Teach them to Be respectful of themselves and others
Teach them to be brave
Teach them to be of service to others
Don’t transfer your trauma
You dream of the fantasy that is family, you, your spouse, some little ones running around carrying your name. Then you create that reality. Then you want everything that is perfect for them, perfect is a construct of ideal but you want it for them nonetheless. You model all the above for them to learn. Modeling is the most effective way to teach, you’re told. But sometimes these little shits make it difficult. You try nonetheless. They grow inkling by inkling into what you want to see them be.
Then the world reminds you that ideal construct your brain told you was within reach for your infallible offspring is all smoke mirrors. There is terror at every corner. The asshole kid picking on your angel, the mean teacher who just doesn’t understand your child’s worldly gifts, the boogie man that might be waiting outside the playground of the school, the deranged criminal that might wield a gun at school while you’re miles away unable to protect your little Bub.
You switch gears, you arm them with all the knowledge to protect them from such circumstances, you teach your angel the boxing stance and tell her to never start a fight but if she gets into one, to finish it, you stand up for your child by speaking to said mean teacher, you teach lil guy to never speak to strangers and arm him with information of safe people who would ever pick him up from school, you tell little Bub to zip up his mouth listen carefully to the teachers as they do in the drill and whenever an incident of an active shooter might occur-while giving Bub a false sense of security it will NEVER happen.
Then inkling by inkling they keep growing, they bother themselves with boys and girls and cigarettes and booze. You gear up to handle that too, etching into them how to be responsible, birth control, condoms, tell them how dangerous booze can be in impairing their steady mind. At some point you talk about violations. You talk about consent, you talk about no ponytails when running, you teach them about keys between their fingers. You teach them about sexual assault. What do you teach them about that anyway? Don’t get assaulted? Don’t put yourself into a position to be assaulted? Scream if you’re assaulted? Here I’m cautious because I’ve learned not to transfer trauma. This is tricky.
From the time I was talking about vegetables and sharing toys and trusted people, I have somehow transferred some leakage from the trauma I have been moiling though processing all these years. We talk about consent, I tried to model consent, not to do things without their permission; not to take from their plates, not to take their toys, not to enter their 3 year old bedroom , not to change the TV channels they’re watching, to have the option of not participating in family time. I want them to have autonomy over themselves, the choice to say yes or no. That of course goes without saying autonomy over their bodies and whom they want hugged or kissed or high fived. I worry they might be faced with the cruel world where people show disregard for their autonomy, I fear for violations against their will. So I flood them with love and talking, so much talking, so very much talking, wanting them to know they can talk to me no matter what; that I will listen and I will believe them. Choosing who to trust, I haven’t gotten that far yet but I suppose the leakage will flow and I will master that soon enough. I’m trying not to transfer trauma of distrust, solitude, pain, shame and guilt, I’m not sure if I’m doing it right but I sure am trying.
You though, you raise your children to be perfect as we all see our own. You nurture their interests, their friendships, their relation to the world. You raise them to be perfect humans for the idea of a world that will accept them and revere them and love them as such. From where I’m standing it seems a little convoluted and misguided. We are waking up to a world that is not ready for our perfect children, so you try to make it better for them and you try to prepare them for the in between.
Somehow we all meet the world where it is. I’m not entirely pessimistic, our world is filled with beautiful people trying to make this wounded world better, I see the beautiful dawn on a world where children take the stands and fight for a better future. I see us working hard at this in our homes with our infants, toddlers, tweens and teens. I see a whole bunch of people loving the fuck out of our children. We are parents, you and I, conforming, reforming, reliving, just living. Someday the little ones won’t be so little anymore and perhaps then our modeling comes to mean for something. Ideally with all our efforts, we can be a little less pessimistic and a little more hopeful the world is safer, the world is kinder, the world is just. And our children, our angels, our little guys, our little shits, our little Bubs can be free to be the perfect humans that they are. Because, through it all, we’ll love the fuck out of em’.