Introspection

Ask the Kids First

Another day has gone by and another valuable lesson learned. While I’d like to say that I imparted some great wisdom on my kids, they have proven once again that they can often have a greater ability to teach me than the other way around. So what did these brilliant four-year olds teach me this time? That I need to start asking them first.

We’ve all been there, realizing on our way out the door that we need some additional, integral this-or-that for the upcoming outing. In my latest instance, that must-have was mittens. While the kids are otherwise ready to go, I frantically search, feeling as though I have already checked every place twice to no avail. I look in places that they would never be, because I’ve already looked twice in all the usual spots. The frustration mounts and time ticks by, so now the assumption of lateness piles on – the lack of preparation so evident in this fruitless search. A few grunts and heavy sighs are emitted, the slightest venting of that parentally-supressed anger in a feeble attempt to forestall completely losing it.

This time though, teetering on that precipice, the vicious cycle was broken. My salvation came from my four-year old daughter, who sweetly asked what I was looking for. In a far too gruff and frustrated response, I barked back “I’m looking for your mittens…sweetie” – the delayed endearment a lame attempt to somehow mask my unwarranted tone. Instantly, she tells me they are in pouch on her bike. Mystery solved. Sanity recovered. Epiphany reached.

I realize now, that over these past few years I have grown accustomed to being the finder of lost things (most of which I lost initially), preparer of meals and agenda, launderer, and the all-around go-to guy for the kids’ stuff. All of these tiny little tasks and chores culminate in the quintessential stay-at-home parenting experience, yet they have fortified a routine of  mindlessly getting things done just so we can move on to the next task. Particularly in those moments of frustration, when I have a million things to do and feel like I just have to get it all done, it’s the perfect opportunity to get my kids more involved.

I have to stop thinking that every task is mine alone to complete as this simply isn’t the case anymore. I have kids now, not babies – little people that can think, react, and yes, help. The seemingly endless daily chores need not be entirely parent-centric as  they continue to take more responsibility for their actions and contribute to the household.  These new skills, whether seemingly minor or major, are all part of a glorious trend toward self-sufficiency. And while this is certainly a common parental goal that we all share, we can both marvel at our kids’ development and also celebrate the impact it also has on our own lives. It’s a small step toward a much larger, and ideally lifelong, trend. As a family, we’re all in this together and despite the myriad motivations, whether selfless or selfish, our goals are still perfectly aligned. I’m proud of every step my kids have taken but I shouldn’t be ashamed that my life becomes easier with each one too. While it’s utterly magnificent that my sweet little girl showed empathy and a desire to help – traits that I’ll always try to instill in her, a little sliver of my sanity could have been preserved this time if I had only asked her first where those mittens were. I won’t make that mistake again. My kids aren’t the only ones growing up here.

Categories: Introspection, SAHD/SAHM tips | Tags: , , , , | 2 Comments

Case Study of a Compliment

I don’t deal very well with compliments. I can dish them out but I can’t take them. Rather than just being gracious, I often find myself trying to introspectively debunk a compliment rather than just accept it. No doubt, I completely over-think it but I wonder, is this emblematic of the self-doubt most parents face? Ultimately, I come to my senses and just accept the compliment but in the meantime, I seem to question every bit of it in much greater depth than any casual comment should ever warrant. With this in mind, here is a bit of a case study showing the lengthy thought process of an overly introspective and sometimes regrettably cynical stay-at-home dad:

Once in a while, I am told by a complete stranger that I am a “good dad.” Bear in mind, I don’t even feel very comfortable admitting that this happens since it sounds invariably like bragging, but my deconstruction here will show that I derive more far more shame than pride by doing so. In any case, complaining about compliments may forever brand me as an ungracious jerk, but perhaps that’s exactly what I have become.

There are a few ways my über-cynicism can deflect such an innocuous compliment as “you’re a good dad.” The first is to simply dismiss it, letting my own reflexive self-doubt discount such a nicety. I may think to myself, “I look like a good dad right now, but I’ll look quite different at the end of the day when the kids are running around crazed and I’m just trying frantically to get dinner ready.”  This is always an easy deflection, as I assume this friendly stranger is just catching a glimpse of me at the top of my game. Anyone can look like a great parent at the right moment, just as great parents can look awful if you catch them at the height of their frustration.

Another way to deflect such a compliment is to question its inspiration. Here is where my cynicism can get a bit convoluted depending which direction I take it. Am I seen as a good parent just because my kids aren’t being disruptive or running around? If so, does having compliant kids really make me a good parent or rather just an effective disciplinarian? If the latter, is that even a good thing or might I be raising followers that will never question abusive authority later in life? See? I told you I don’t deal well with compliments.

Yet another way to deflect this is to question the perspective of the source. This is where I switch gears from self-centered to radical cynic. As nice and genuine as a comment may be, I wonder if a mother would get the same compliment. Is it that I’m simply seen as a good dad by some because of (albeit diminishing) social norms that expect fathers to be less hands-on than mothers? If so, I resent the implication rather than appreciating what is almost certainly just a nice compliment. But if it’s true that the same person wouldn’t make a similar compliment to a mother, then am I wrong? I strive to be a good parent, and if the prevailing expectations for fathers are less than for mothers, then I have somehow managed to interpret what may be a genuine compliment as an insult instead. My special blend of egocentrism and self-doubt then yields an unspoken judgment on a stranger who has gone out of his/her way to pay me a compliment. My cynicism seemingly knows no bounds.

To be clear, it’s not that I think I’m a bad father. I believe I’m a pretty good one, actually, though it’s a distinction that will ebb and flow over the course of any given day. At some points I’m definitely too hard on myself but at other times, I’m probably far too conceited. Whatever the implications may be to my vacillating confidence and the mood-driven seesaw battle between egomania and cynicism, I do get past it. Once I work this all out in my head, I can conclude the absurdity of my introspection (as writing about it has accomplished here), and just accept that a nice person gave me a warm and unsolicited compliment. If I choose to mangle it into something sinister, that’s entirely on me. Maybe I’m a good dad. Maybe I’m a good parent. Maybe I’m a horrible person. In any case, by acknowledging these possibilities, I can improve regardless.

I don’t do these things to beat myself up, though perhaps I’m rationalizing. Instead, I simply try to think critically about anything I do, whether it’s my budgeting, grocery shopping, or my personal behavior, so that I can always seek improvement. I can’t teach critical thinking skills to my kids if I don’t first possess them myself. And, since we all strive to give our kids the best things in life, shouldn’t our best selves be at the top of that list?

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