I have some dirty history. Some scary, dirty history. Years of my life that I’m sure I will eventually reveal. And I’m sure that it would make a lot more sense to write this after an autobiographical bit is posted, but I don’t tend to work like that – make sense and all.
In short, I’ve come full circle and I stand here wondering how much we tell our kids of our past. What they need to know, what can and should be left out, what’s beneficial, what’s detrimental, what will teach a wise lesson that they’ll forever carry with them, what they’ll learn from, what will make them question their mother in ways that aren’t so positive. [exhale]
How do we strike the right balance? How do we know what’s okay to share and what’s not?
How fully do I want my children to know me? The me that is me now, based on the me that was me at 10 and 15 and 20…
Dan and I often share bits of our childhood history with Jamis to make the point that our own parents made us do the same things, that we felt the same challenges, were scared once upon a time, shy, energetic and often out of control too. These things are universal. He’s not alone in his chores and responsibilities, in his punishments and discipline, in all that is hard and unwanted when you are six and the world is too big to understand.
Is there a difference between what we’ll share with boys as opposed to what we’ll share, or should share, with girls? For me it’s a pretty rhetorical question as I’ve got boys, all boys, all the time. But I wonder.
It’s no secret that I long, long, long for a daughter. Not in what I would consider a common way either, for common reasons. I don’t think about tea parties and ballet, pink pillows and swishy dresses (okay, maybe a few swishy dresses, for my mom). I think about a girl chasing down her brothers and rolling in the grass beside them. I think of a kinship that I worry will be lost along the way as my boys grow up, but with a daughter would only improve with time and age, as it has for me and the women in my life – sister, mother, girl friends. I tell myself that I can keep distance at bay with my boys, and yet I know deep down that what their father says and what their father thinks of them is so damn important, and I can’t compete. I can love.
And love I will. Fiercely and forever.
I have known parents that have decided to keep themselves very separate from their children, sharing very little of their past, of their mistakes and of their faults. And I have known parents who have opted to expose everything in the hope that it will bring them closer to their children, and that they will learn not only from their parents experiences, but who their parents really are underneath all the responsibility that is being a parent.
One thing is for certain, I will make many mistakes along this path. I’m okay with that. I’ve gotten used to calling out my mistakes already – with myself, my husband and our oldest child. For many years I was accustomed to lying. It was a way of survival, or so I thought. I lied to everyone I loved, and most of all – get ready for the obvious – I lied to myself. I no longer subscribe to this. I’m an extremist and so I’ve switched over to the other side, where I boldly spray honesty all over everything. Sometimes I get in just as much trouble with the honesty as I did with the lying. But below the surface, and in my reflections, I feel calm about it. I want my children to feel the freedom of truth, and stray from the temptations of disguise.
I’m 100% aware that this is an issue that will only intensify as my children get older, and I’m dealing with teenagers, not toddlers. But nobody said I couldn’t prepare. I worry that I won’t be able to connect with them the way I could connect with daughters. But I suppose I sell myself short. I do. Yes, I sell myself short. And there is no doubt in my mind that I’ll figure it all out along the way – what to reveal, what to keep to myself, how truly to expose my flaws of past and present. Hell, I’ve made it nearly 7 years without a manual, and I’m three kids in to it, and motherhood will never end. And I smile.
Read More in Best of 2009, boys, history aka before kids, Sarah Writes, Sarah's Favorites
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Nothing witty to say here. Nothing insightful either. I must walk away from this post and do some thinking. Daughters? Sons? Connections? Honesty? I have to walk away and do some thinking. And I’ll be smiling while I think. Thanks for a wonderful post.
Just stumbled upon your blog today…I have two boys and often wonder how my connection with them will change as they get older. How much to tell of our past? I’m not sure…I think it depends on the situation and what is relevant when. I think you’ll probably know when the time comes.
Nice post. Nice blog.
Thanks for the swishy dress thought. I do love them. But what I love more are girls with guts, girls who have fun, girls who are strong and who know themselves well, girls who love themselves and others, girls who make mistakes and keep on going, girls who push the boundaries……..girls who are my daughters. xxoo
I think about this all the time. I have some unsavory things in my past and I am the mother of TWO girls. How do I keep them from giving parts of themselves away like party favors? How much do I tell them about self destruction without making them self destructive.
My philosophy has always been to be honest when they ask. But the questions get harder. And sometimes I don’t even have any answers.
Sarah, I have three daughters and while I am already concerned about how we will survive their teenagehood, I am intensely grateful knowing that one day I will have three adult daughters. Because relationships with daughters are different than relationships with sons, no matter how hard we try to make them the same. I feel sad, already a grand sense of loss that my son will grow up and leave me and his sisters, not entirely but more intensely than his sisters will ever leave. I think about it all the time. I didn’t wish for daughters, didn’t long for them, am not interested in frills and fluff and the drama that girls bring to a household but now that I have them, now I am grateful in ways that I never expected. Sometimes I am concerned that I am too obsessed with my relationship with my son, too concerned that he and his sisters remain close. So I thank you for your honesty for putting it out into the world so that I can know that I am not alone in my fear.
I have been accused of being far too honest with my children, for including them in life’s big parts all too soon. I’ve been accused of giving them too much information. I don’t know if I’m right, but I feel good about my honesty with them, good about giving them ALL of the information so that they can learn to make decisions and to think about things from different perspectives and I do my best to balance it with holding them up in self-confidence, trusting them, encouraging them to make good choices for themselves because they deserve it. I have thoughtful, compassionate children as a result. I will take the criticism, a life lived honestly is lived more rawly a new acquantaince recently told me. She might be right.
Sorry about the ridiculously long comment, again I thank you for sharing. Adding you and Jen to my blogroll right now.