Getting To Know Your Children

A friend was expounding on how disconnected she is from her parents.  Time after time she cited examples of how her parents really didn’t know her; how they seemed surprised, years after she was an adult, to discover that she liked music or art.  Then she said that her father used to say, “I’m not your peer, I’m your parent.” 

That resonated with me.  I remember my mom, time and time again, saying, “I’m not your friend.  I’m your mother.”  She reinforced what I realize now was a core belief by never asking what I was thinking, how I felt about family matters, or what books I was reading.  She never did artwork with me, never even played with my brother and me.  Growing up she really didn’t know who I was as a person.  But the clincher was:  she never made the attempt even though, as a stay-at-home mom, she could have skipped a few hours of housecleaning to spend time with her daughter.    

Now I’m not whining about it because parenthood was different in the 1960s.  I don’t recall ANY of the mothers I knew playing with their children.  However, later in life I remember feeling like I didn’t want my mother to know me… maybe, on some level, it was because she never took the time to get to know me as a kid. 

Okay, lest you think I am type of parent who foregoes disciplining her children in order to be their friend, I am not.  I fully realize that they need a parent more than a buddy.  They’ll be better off, in the long run, with someone who provides guidance, says “no,” and can be a role model (no matter how faulty) rather than an adult who plays video games constantly and buys them whatever they want. 

Still, I do play with my children.  It’s the aspect of parenting I love most.  I played hours of Hot Wheels when my son was little and, as he’s gotten older, have learned how tough it is to pitch baseballs for long periods of time.  I’ve extended my finger at tea parties, lost copious games of Uno and lost even more games of Go Fish to my daughter.  I’ve been mystified by the marvels of the Wii after being scared by the competitiveness of a tween playing Monopoly (“In your face Mom!”).  Most recently, I was assaulted by both kids at Northland Pool.  We giggled, wriggled, roughhouse, and generally had a blast in the water. 

I hope that by spending “quality time” with my kids, talking, playing, and doing things they enjoy, I’m getting to know them.  And I hope they’re getting a sense of who I am beyond the rules and limits that I set.  Because no matter how strict you are, life is too short NOT to discover the miracles that are our children.