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AustinMama offers up some Daddy props.
- Robert A. Heinlein
Freedom
Although it’s been bandied about a lot in the media lately, freedom’s kind of a tricky word, and it means a lot of different things to
different people. To my wife Janice, it’s the unexpected snow day that means she can roll over in the morning and get back to sleep rather
than driving to the high school where she tries to reach a sometimes
unappreciative audience of teens. For myself, it’s time alone when I
am responsible for no children, like the late nights I spend writing.
For the pair of us collectively, it’s the idea of sidling elegantly
from beneath the crushing weight of debt that is home ownership and
rapidly growing children. For angered Americans, it’s suddenly
become a euphemism for the French. Overall, though, our lives are
pretty good. For the Iraqi parents currently finding themselves
homeless, voiceless, limbless, childless, or lifeless, freedom is, like
the song says, just another word for nothing left to lose.
But as a parent, the issues of freedom that I normally confront are not
really matters of my own freedom, but of the relative freedom my
children enjoy. I try to make reasonable decisions, but I know that
there are knee jerk and deep-rooted historical notes in the symphony of
my thinking. When I was young, it felt like I enjoyed very little
freedom. I ate the meals my mother prepared, no matter how long it
took me sitting at the table to choke them down. I contrast this with
Keefe’s refusal of not one but two different dinners this evening, and
the combination of surprising temper and sympathy that invokes within
me. At the same time, I can remember hitchhiking six miles into town
from mom’s house to visit a vague itinerary of friends at his age,
which is unthinkable today. The world changes. So where does the wise
dad draw the imaginary line between thou shalt and letting go?
A Taoist aphorism suggests that a journey of a thousand miles begins
with a single step. Self-determinism is something vast, and to come
into it suddenly would be like tripping at the lip of an abyss.
Children who live firmly beneath the parental thumb don’t get the
practice making good decisions they will need when inevitably they swim
in deep waters themselves. Growing levels of independent
responsibility a bit at a time makes the transition from infancy
(complete dependence) to adulthood (independence) somewhat smoother. I
want my sons to not only feel progressively more free, but also more
confident and grown up.
Freedom is inextricably tied to responsibility. The reason I don't
give Keefe absolute freedom is that I don't want him to get in over his
head and learn things the hard way. In the final reckoning, though, I
can't stop him from doing so. It's a part of how we all learn, and I
remember many boneheaded decisions I was fortunate to survive as a
teen. Like me, he'll carefully think through some aspects of his life
and autopilot the remainder on the basis of whim, habit, peer
influence, attempts to please us, and bullish revolt against us. His
decisions are, after all, how he will define himself as an individual.
And despite my fears, I want him to reach, to dare, to take risks.
Just not stupid ones. When we're clashing about meals or homework I
try to remind myself that these are the proverbial small potatoes. I
constantly want to do better so that more mountainous sex drugs and
morality themes remain surmountable later.
If we treat our kids like we have faith in them to make good choices,
they will usually make it true. Expectation is a surprisingly powerful
tool. If you show up at a party feeling happy and interesting and
attractive, most people will treat you as attractive, just as they will
pick up on it if you beam out miserable and unlovable vibes. It works
the same with one’s offspring: they know on a deep level when you’re
giving them real trust. Because of that, and no matter how hard it is,
you can never take back a freedom you allow your child. Once we allow
them control over some aspect of their lives, we must resist the urge
to judge their choices, meddle, or mouth off at them about it.
Whatever you do, never shoot yourself in the foot by attempting to
strictly lay down the law: “Never let me catch you doing that around
here!” The moment you tell your teen that, you guarantee that their
interest will go underground. The operative part of the sentence is
‘don’t let me catch you’, after all, so if they’re, say, curious about
drugs, you're denying them a relatively safe space to experiment when
they go elsewhere. A strict no-tolerance policy about anything removes
the opportunity to talk about it. Maybe your teen, like many, will
decide that moderation is superior to abstinence, and your
matter-of-fact approach may contribute to that decision, but at least
you will not have established a precedent of non-communication between
you.
Despite being guilty of it, I see the arrogance in trying to control
our children's lives and environments as much as we sometimes do. We do
it because we love them, but we have to keep remembering that they are
wise. Hopefully, in the long run, wiser than we. And hopefully we
will be encouraging them to trust the inner voice that tells them when
enough is enough, how to react, or what to do, rather than teaching
them to always look over their shoulder at us when confronted by the
question "Should I?"
Because it would be teaching them to be followers. Because we can't
always be there, nor should we.
And because they already know.
_______________
Michael Nabert is a Canadian writer who loves to talk and sing, and writes mainly about
parenting, the art of wooing and paleontology. Widely traveled, with an opinion about everything, his friends often describe him as having
"a
deplorable excess of character." He is currently stay-at-home dad to Hugh
and Keefe. Send feedback for Michael to: poprocks@austinmama.com
