Midweek Musings: Parenting
and the universality of wondering if we're doing it right
Last week Neal over at Work/Craft/Life posted a guest essay by Stay-at-Home Dad Amran Gowani. I already subscribe to Amran’s newsletter Field Research, but I learned so much more about him from “Dad! Wass for Bweakfass?”
I think many parents can relate to the essay even if they aren’t stay-at-home moms or dads. There’s such a comradery in parenting (or at least an understanding that parenting is hard) that the comments were replete with responses to Amran’s experience:
“Phew, after just reading Amran’s essay I need a nap—and a Xanax…kudos to him for wanting to do better than his father. I think that’s pretty much the best thing a parent can do for their kids.” - Michael Jensen
“As a newly minted dad, this resonates so eerily that I could trade your home for mine! ‘Kids are genetically optimized to push your buttons’—pure gold!…” - Tejaswi Gautam
“Taking what you had and identifying how to make it better for your kids. Better, not perfect, just learning from your experiences. Beautiful….” - Ross
I threw my two cents in there, too.
“…Like you, I’ve tried to be a better parent than what I had growing up. There are days I have felt like I was failing, but in the end I’ve done my very best.”
It’s easier for me to write that in some obscure comments on the Internet than in my own posts—like somehow I am dishonoring my parents. All things considered, I do have some pretty great parents (and I’m not just saying that because they might be reading this because they probably aren’t).
But every parent is human, and all humans are flawed; therefore, all parents get some things wrong. All of us.
My thoughts and comments after reading the article landed on a favorite publication: The Book of Eulogies, a collection dedicated to the art of eulogy. It might seem morbid to immerse oneself in such a book, but I’ve been reading selections from it for several years and have found comfort in the universality of loss and grief, whether that’s through death, divorce, or children pulling away.1
"If there is one truth that all parents must embrace sooner or later, it is that no matter how much they love their children they must learn to let them go. Eventually the child must learn the same thing. When a parent dies, we do not say good-bye as much as we release them—from our continuing need for their love and confirmation, even if we have never received it," writes editor Phyllis Theroux.
This particular section2 introduces eulogies by sons and daughters,
"…gently untying the bonds, of struggling to let their parents go....These are the thoughts of middle-aged children, whose lives were complicated by parents whose own parents complicated theirs.
Parents are judged by how well or badly they did by their children, by what kind of example or trail worth following they left behind. The second is far more difficult to get right. The fact is that all parents hurt their children—an occupational hazard for which the only insurance is the child's capacity to forgive. The counterfact, or miracle, is that nearly all children do.
In David Cook's eulogy for his mother he writes, 'The perfect mother and the perfect father do not exist in this life, and I am glad for that. No child could stand them or get free of them.'"
Isn't that the truth? It is the natural order for our young to leave the nest. Sometimes we cling to them so hard that we pluck out all their feathers. Sometimes in our absolute lack of knowledge of what else to do, we just push and pray they'll fly. Regardless, the years surrounding the parting are often fraught with anger, frustration, and emotionally-charged words. And then there is the calm. The children are free, expressing their identities, and the parents are at peace knowing they got some things wrong, but not the loving. No matter the missteps, the love was always there.
Therroux goes on to say of the eulogies in the chapter,
"There are no perfect parents here. But to see them through the eyes of their children is to admire who they were and to have compassion—that late-blooming virtue that waits until we are old enough to need it ourselves—for what they could not be."
Longing for forgiveness as a parent produced forgiveness within me for my own parents’ imperfections. And even thankfulness for those imperfections. All parents get some things wrong. All of us.
I’ll leave you with a eulogy I read just this week by Avivah over at Elderberries—a love letter to her mom, which she actually gave to her a few weeks before her death. I don’t know of any greater gift to a mother—for her to know she got a lot of things right, especially the loving.
I’ve gifted this book to several friends who were grieving the death of a parent or spouse. I even have extra copies on hand for future grieving souls.
Found on pages 225-226 for those interested.
I wrote an essay about our parents being human and realizing, after a monumental conversation with my mother, that who I knew her to be was someone deeply affected by trauma. Might be time for a followup, but I will say that I finally understood what it meant to heal. It was wonderful.
On my own account, one of the first parental principles I developed is remembering that my child is their own person and not an extension of me. It has helped me accept and mother the child I have and not the one I want.
Great topic and thanks for the recommended essay from Amran.
I think we're all just trying to do the best we can, and that often means trusting your gut & winging it.