Old-school parenting

Because we’re now in our mid-40s, we obviously grew up with 70s and 80s parenting.  I doubt—seriously doubt—our moms talked about any of this with their other mom friends.  When I went visiting other women with my mom, how to parent never came up.  Even when they thought I wasn’t listening.  The last thing in the world our moms would’ve done is analyze their performance as a mom or read books about it.  My mom was too busy reading The Thorn Birds and other thick romance novels, and Todd’s mom barely had a second to herself with all those kids.  They were just living their lives, doing what came naturally (or whatever came to mind).  And that’s probably where Todd and I get it. I’ve read quite a bit about what makes people tick, and I wholeheartedly subscribe to the natural consequences philosophy (as in Parenting with Love and Logic), but I really believe we can rely on our intuition a great deal more than we do.  So no, I don’t usually have parenting books on my nightstand, but yes, I’m also a product of 90s parenting and so I’ve read my share.

Growing up, our parents’ job was to go to work to earn money to support the household (or stay home and take care of the work in the home).  Our job as kids was to go to school and get an education; our parents never talked about this with us when we were kids, it was just the way it was back then.  We're kind of the same, as long as things are ticking along, we’re all good.  Just as I don’t try to tell Todd how to run his vet practice, I assume my kids know more about what goes on in school than I do and I trust them with their stewardship.  However, when Todd has an issue at work he’ll need a sounding board for, I’m happy to hear what’s up and talk through it with him; and, likewise, we always want to hear from the kids when something’s amiss or unusual at school.  Of course we’ll help with homework on occasion or hear about an altercation among classmates, but basically they handle things on their own.  

Just as we did.  Because I know they can deal with it.  The minute I take ownership of a problem, I’m telling them they can’t handle it.  I’m also taking responsibility away from them and making more work for myself.  I’ve already done 6th grade; it’s their turn.  We had to figure out hard teachers, Dodge ball, strained relationships, embarrassing situations, and consequences of procrastination.  We failed tests, got B’s, braved our share of injuries and illnesses, and endured braces, glasses, and jr. high p.e.  We simply don’t believe in padding the way for our kids or shielding them from real life.  It’s their job to bring their planners and papers to us to sign; as a younger mom I wasn’t going to dig through five backpacks every afternoon to figure out what was going on.  No, I don’t know how many more AR points they need, and I have no idea if they’ve practiced; that’s all between them and their teachers.  We of course like to know how they’re doing and are always interested in their progress reports.  But we’ve never signed in online to see what their grades are, in elementary school or high school; that’s just not us.  In our mind, they need to know we truly trust them to take care of their school affairs themselves,  just as they leave the mortgage and car repairs to us. 

We have encouraged them to take the harder route whenever it’s an option like with honors and AP classes; we discuss the merits and added responsibilities but then allow them to decide.  One son opted (against the advice of his teachers) to take two honors science classes at one time as a sophomore, and we supported that decision without reservation.  A daughter felt like forgoing honors math classes, so we listened to her reasoning and supported her decision as well.  We encourage them to take the ACT multiple times, to try a variety of activities, and to sign up for classes that interest them (rather than sticking with what they’re friends are taking).  But we completely let them choose.  I suppose if they were taking all art and cooking classes and library aid on the side then we’d have an issue, but basically we talk a lot about future goals and how to get there; they realize quickly that the lifestyle they want to have someday depends a great deal on what they do right now.  And then we let them figure it out.

It’s not that we’re trying to take the easy way out.  Any parent knows it’s a million times easier to do it yourself.  Anything.  Dishes, feeding the dogs, scholarship forms, packing lunches, making beds, scouts.  But I guess we just always go back to our overarching goal for our kids.  We are doing everything we can to help them gain skills, to teach them responsibility and self sufficiency and to take care of themselves so that they can confidently and successfully do it all on their own someday.  What better environment to learn about how clothes shrink or why the cookies spread out too much or why you can’t drive on a flat tire or how to assure the sheets stay tucked in or why it’s important to refrain from gossiping than with a mom or dad right beside you to explain it all?  We love the chance to talk about failures and disappointments and what we can do next or better.  That’s just good learning.  We have our own stories from when we were kids and even in our current everyday adult lives to share with them as well.

But to the observer, it might look like we don’t care.  It’s not that at all.  We try in every way possible to help our kids avoid heartache and discomfort, we really do.  But we believe in allowing disappointment for the greater good of teaching a lifelong lesson.  So we talk about what to bring on a camping trip for scouts when they’re 11, and Todd will check their bags at first.  But there’s no way we’re doing that more than a couple of times.  We’ll make suggestions, You might want a hat and maybe an extra blanket, do you think that will be enough food, what if they don’t have a fire? and we do require basics like a coat and real shoes.   But beyond that, they will learn much better if they have to experience a cold or hungry night of sleep than if we pack everything for them.  They won’t die from one night without a pillow or gloves, but that memory will be indelibly printed in their minds, a hard-learned but valuable life lesson.  Same with packing for vacations and overnighters and school.  You wouldn’t believe how young they can start doing things for themselves.  So it's not that we don't care.  Ask Todd, I always worry that my boys are warm enough when they're camping in the snow and we have no idea if they packed everything.  I worry what they'll eat when they refused to take extra food for a long after-school activity.  But we advise.  And we let it go.

Basically I think we—like our parents—figure our kids have what they need to handle age-appropriate responsibilities.  Todd’s mom started them on laundry by age 8.  Kids these days can program all sorts of electronics; they can certainly run a washing machine and dish washer.  They can make their own lunches, do dishes, mow, clean bathrooms, trim, whatever.  My nephew’s had a lawn mowing business since he was 9 or 10.  And my sister’s three boys have been doing their own laundry since they could reach and read the dials.   They only know what they can do from our cues.  If we tell them they can, they think they can.  No, the execution’s not perfect, but it improves over time.  In our minds, this is where true confidence comes from: developing real life skills and knowing who they are.

I loved reading Randy Pausch’s thoughts in The Last Lecture before he died, and I remember how much his parenting philosophy resonated with me.  He expected his kids to do anything they were capable of; he even encouraged his babies to hold their own bottles as soon as they could. I felt so validated, that maybe I wasn’t being mean, but maybe I was teaching. I’m a little inconsistent sometimes and help them out every now and then.  I remember zipping up one of our kindergartner’s coats one cold morning and Todd asked what I was doing, as if I had breeched a contract!  It’s not very often, but we sometimes make up a bed with warm sheets from the dryer or help with a lunch if it’s been a crazy morning. It’s not like we aren’t concerned for our kids’ well-being, not at all.  But we know they will be better off knowing how to solve problems for themselves.  They will eventually make the connection (even though we give them hints all the time) that zipping their coats will keep the warmth in. They understand that if they need a uniform or special pair of jeans for tomorrow—and they want it to be clean—there’s only one way to make that happen (of course they can throw in something with ours on occasion).  I knew growing up in an apartment that laundry would only be done Tuesday and Friday mornings, so I had to plan accordingly.  My mom and dad both worked full-time and we had to leave early to get to school; there was no way in this universe she was going to do the laundry at 5:30 in the morning at the laundromat around the corner, get herself ready and have time to make us breakfast or pack lunches for three girls, just not happening, I can’t even imagine it. I can’t fathom them walking me through college admissions or federal aid or scholarship forms; they didn’t even know what classes I was taking in high school and neither one went to college.  But did it faze us or make us feel like they didn’t care for or love us?  It was so matter of fact that we never questioned it.  And that’s probably why we’re the same with our kids.  We want them to know how to run their lives, to figure out how to feed themselves if they’re hungry, to look online to figure what’s wrong with the trimmer or to learn about installing the new dishwasher or brake light, to know how to get a job.  My parents made us call people on the phone, visit strangers, and entertain ourselves.  I think they intuitively knew this would all strengthen us.

And so Todd and I carried this feeling of independence with us to college.  His parents dropped him off at the airport in Chicago to go to college in Utah.  He had two suitcases.  And he did great.  I was a little less prepared, I got homesick after a month or so, I needed help once for rent, I’d never had a real job (I just had my own cleaning business), and I had no idea how to cook.  But it never crossed my mind to ask my parents for help doing my taxes.  Or for a car.  Or to call a professor who’d been mean or who gave out too much homework.  Sounds simply laughable, but you know the reality these days.

Kids feel secure knowing their parents have covered the basics.  Likewise, just because kids are younger than us doesn’t mean they can’t handle much of their own care, decisions, and even stresses.  Just as I don’t expect them to worry about if I’ve read my scriptures for the day or made dinner, I let them take care of their worksheets they need to finish up and pace themselves in the novel they’ve been assigned to finish for English.

We of course talk about all this.  Just as they’ll ask how their dad’s day was and what surgeries he had, we’ll ask how that chemistry test went or how that project’s coming along or how he feels about band.  The kids might ask how much we pay for the house or car insurance out of curiosity, but it’s not keeping them awake at night.  And we don’t stress if they need to work things out with a friend or grade.  We don’t go through each class with them every night and assess what homework they have or where they are with every acquaintance.  We do follow up with concerns they’ve expressed, we offer insight and advice, we answer questions, we share our experiences, and we really do try to pay attention to overall feelings we have about each of the kids.  But basically, our philosophy mirrors a wise man's, “I teach them correct principles, and they govern themselves.”

A caveat.  It’s not anywhere near perfect.  We could never be on a talk-show for raising incredible kids.  Even if I wanted to, I’d hesitate to practice as a family counselor until we see how it how pans out.  Only two of our five kids play an instrument, and they’re still just in the learning stages.  They’ve all done cross country, but no one’s ever come in first.  No one’s on track to be a valedictorian.  We’re not the family of class presidents or Most Popular or Most Likely to Succeed.  They’ve just had regular jobs.  No, they haven’t paid their own way for everything (that’s a whole other blog).  They’ve had their issues and my heart’s been broken, deeply severed.  We’ve missed a lot.  We have regrets.  Definitely.  And we’re not sure how it’s even going to all turn out.  We’re not guaranteeing anything.

All we know is that this feels right to us regardless of how flawed we seem and how messy it looks on the outside.  When I wonder about how to manage something in life, I look to God.  He gives us commandments (expectations), he sends us mentors (parents, church leaders, teachers), he gives us agency (choices), and he allows consequences (natural results of decisions) to teach us.  As young parents, we had no idea how to do any of it.  But it seemed natural to raise our kids the way we saw him parenting us.

So maybe we appear detached.  Lazy.  Lackadaisical.  Like we’re out to lunch.  Like we don’t care.  Distracted, clueless, naive.  And I can see that.  But don’t we sometimes accuse God of the same things?  It may seem like he’s far away, like he doesn’t care, like he’s not involved.  But by this point in our lives we all recognize how much God does love us. So much that he trusts us to learn from our failures, to develop empathy through disappointment, to feel the thrill of handing a tough situation.  We know he is always, always there, anxious to help us if we need him for anything at all.  That’s how we want to be for our kids.  But we have confidence in their abilities, we know they are capable of so much.  Most kids are eager to be independent.  In a world where we need strong, creative, confident problem solvers, citizens, parents, and friends, we encourage our kids to get on it.  They’ve got a lot to learn, may as well start young.