Children... God's Gift to Parents

Children…

     God’s gift to parents is children. What we do with them is up to us. Our greatest hope is that they follow our advice and instruction and become responsible members of society. We want them to have better than we did. We hope they don’t start doing drugs, smoking, drinking or become one of the criminal element.  How they turn out is largely up to us as their main teachers and advisors.

     When my daughter was born I was thirty-five. I really thought that I was too old to be having any more kids, after all, I already had a boy and a girl and didn’t think I needed more but, there I was, an expectant father once again. I was ecstatic. All through the pregnancy I would talk to her. I would tell her to be good or, on some days just to be mean to her mom, I would tell her to give it hell. Amazingly enough, she would do what I asked; I would say be good and she would be quiet all day and when I told her to give it hell she would kick all day. She was Daddy’s girl.

     When she was born, a month and a half premature, she weighed in at a whopping four pounds and one ounce. For twenty-seven days she was in the hospital, long enough for her to get up to five pounds and start to eat on her own. Still, she was Daddy’s girl. This little bundle of sunshine was loved by everyone there. She never cried. Her full head of dark brown hair and bright green eyes made her the most beautiful baby in the world. No one could love her as much as her Dad.

     Finally we got to take her home. That is when she really became her father’s daughter. I fed her, gave her baths, held her, played with her, everything that a parent does with a newborn. It was I that did it all. Her mom didn’t have to do anything, I did it. Three o’clock wake-up call? No problem. Messy diaper? No problem. She was my world and I was hers.

     Over the next two years, other than when I was at work, we were inseparable. If Dad went, she went; if Dad did, she did. One night I went to the convenience store for something and I took her along, as always. She had fallen asleep in her car seat so I left her there while I ran in for whatever. I was gone for all of three minutes. She was screaming! She had woken up and, as any child will do, became scared. As soon as I opened the door she stopped. Dad was there and the world was as it should be.

     I guess what I am doing here is setting myself up for the big let-down. I, and her mother, taught her since we first brought her home to think for herself. She always had choices unless it was something that would hurt her. She had the choice of either climbing to the top of the waterfall with me or going back to the car with her mom. She had the choice of either eating what we made for her or not eating (ok, I spoiled her and made her what she wanted). Everything she did there were choices and she did pay for the wrong choice.

     We taught her to question. My parents never once told my brother, sisters or me, “Because I said so.” It just didn’t happen. If they told us something that we didn’t like they explained why they told us that. “Because I am the parent,” “because I know better,” “that’s just the way it is,” never came up. “You can’t do that because this or that could happen,” was what we heard. That is what I did. “Baby, don’t do that because you could get hurt (or whatever the scenario was).” If an explanation was not forthcoming, once she could talk, the first words were, “Why can’t I?”

     Is this a bad thing? I don’t believe so. She is not just another brick in the wall. She has a mind and she uses it. Does she always make the right choices? No. I don’t think anyone does everything right, if they did, they wouldn’t learn anything. You have to make mistakes to learn lessons. Using your mind, questioning everything and not conforming are not always the right thing to do in society but, she is her own person and no one will take that away from her.

     By my teaching her to question everything I did allow her to question me. As I stated, she has her own mind and has absolutely no problem voicing what it going on in there. My authority over her is always questionable. When I tell her, or ask her, to do something it is uncertain whether it will get done. If I tell her not to do something, chances are she will do it just to show me she can. My advice is listened to, but only occasionally followed. She uses her own mind and when the choices are wrong, she pays the price.

     My son, on the other hand, is more apt to follow the advice of his dad. He, too, was given choices and made to think for himself. He is a special case, though. Through circumstances beyond my control, or his, he has had a rough life. Since his mother left us when he was about four he has been under psychiatric care. ADHD, Bi-Polar, Oppositional Defiant Disorder, Reactive Attachment Disorder and possibly Fetal Alcohol Syndrome due to drug use are what he is dealing with. Bursts of rage and violence, not being able to control his impulses and hyper-activity are a constant with him.

     He has had his share of problems in society because of his make-up. He is easily swayed into doing things he knows is wrong simply because his circle of friends is practically nil. He thinks he has to do things to have friends. Because of the way he is people tend to shy away from him instead of getting to know him. He has a heart of gold and would give anyone the shirt off my back because he thinks they need that. An example of that is for his eighth birthday we went to Wal-Mart to get him what he wanted. He had wanted this Power Ranger thing for a long time so that is what he picked out. He played with that from the time we left the store until we got home about forty-five minutes later. As soon as we got to the apartment complex where we lived he went to the neighbor’s apartment and gave that toy to their daughter. “Why? You’ve wanted that for a long time.” “Because I thought she would like it and she didn’t have one.” That is the kind of boy he is.

     Do people see that in him? No. They see a kid that is socially inept and a kid with mental problems. I can’t make people like him and, no matter how hard I try with him, he allows people to use him just so he can have friends. All people see in him is a kid that is gullible and will do whatever they want him to. All the while, as he is getting into trouble with the law, they laugh. (And some people actually wonder why I keep saying, ‘The more I see people the more I like fish.’)

     Oh, the ramblings of a twisted mind. I seem to have gotten lost somewhere between the first paragraph and here. My topic was children, the gift they are and what we, as parents, do with them. Or, maybe I haven’t strayed as far as I fear. My children are good examples of what we do with them as parents, how we teach and hope and end up.

     At fifteen my daughter got pregnant. About a week before she turned sixteen her beautiful baby girl was born. It was a bad choice not to listen to her dad about pre-marital, unprotected sex. Actually sex, period, but they are going to do it no matter what we, as parents, tell them. I can say that I am extremely proud of her that she did not have an abortion but decided to go through with it. She was, and is, too young to be a parent but she made that choice and she questioned my authority and wisdom and she now is paying the price of that choice.

     As for questioning my actions and my authority, she and I have had more than one disagreement. I give both my children all that I can. I do all that I can. I am there for them when they need encouragement, solace or just someone to talk to. I feed and water them as best I can and, at times, I make them fend for themselves. They need to know how to do for themselves once they get out into the world so do it at home, they’re old enough now. Herein lies the latest of the disagreements between us.

     I am home. They are home. They are doing their thing and playing Xbox or watching that box of idiocy called a television or just hanging with their friends. I sit and write or play on the computer waiting for one of them to spend time with their dad. I try to get them involved, ask them to go to the store or something to no avail. They are too busy. I have my friends come over and spend time with them. I do for them. They don’t ask anything from me, nor do they make life complicated such as my children’s friends do with their drama and what-not. So I do for them.

     My daughter, in all her unlimited experience and wisdom has the audacity to tell me that I treat my friends better than my children. I do for my friends more than I do for them. I am flabbergasted. No amount of trying to explain will suffice, she has all the answers and all the excuses and all the logic. She has her own mind and she uses it for better or worse. Did I do the right thing by having her question and use that mind that God gave her? I don’t believe so. It can be a major pain in the back-side when she does some of the things she does but, at least I know that she is thinking and not just conforming into what I call a ‘brick in the wall.’

     I love my children more than life itself and will go into the deepest pits of Tartarus for them. I would fight gods and men to protect them. At times I wonder whether they see that or not. They are what I wanted them to be…their own persons. They do not blindly follow society’s fads nor do they have blind faith in anything or anyone. Proof is what they demand before they will conform to what society says is right and even then conformity comes hard.

     Was I right in raising my children this way, by raising them to question, to think and to be themselves? I believe I was. Society tells me I was wrong and that I should force them to conform to the current way of thinking and doing. Society tells me that I should force them to go to church, accept what they are told as gospel and never, ever question anyone about anything. I cannot do that. Conformity is losing oneself to the masses, becoming someone other than who you are. I want my children to be themselves, not someone else. I want them to ask, “Why the hell are you doing this?”

     I have spoiled my children, I know. They have been allowed to do more, and be more, than most children. They have had choices and, depending on what choice they have made, paid the price or enjoyed the victory. For good or bad, my children are what they are and I am proud that they are that. They are good people. They make more good choices, socially, than bad. They make mistakes and learn from them. What more can a parent ask for? There is no such thing as the perfect person, much less the perfect child.

There are those parents that think their children do no wrong. Those parents are blind and are living in a make-believe world. I live in reality where children make mistakes, adults make mistakes, and nothing is perfect. My only hope is that no matter what mistakes they make it won’t affect the rest of their lives in a bad way.

     Children… God’s gift to us as parents.