47. Parenting styles

 

We just came back from a very restful weekend in Bali but the following day saw me crashing back to ‘reality’ with a giant thump!  Ahhh…..that mountain-load of ‘enticing’ laundry, beckoning at the end of each holiday…but it is what it is. So, by noon, I had powered through two loads of washing, taken Buddy to the groomers, done the food shop and gone on my 10-km run.  As I struggled through the door with the groceries, Matt looked up from his Maths session with Tia and said, “Oh, the groomers called and I think Buddy is ready to be picked up.”   Off I trudged again, then made lunch for the hungry mob, drove Matt to work, came home, more laundry and then prepared dinner.  I think you get the picture..

At some point during dinner, Tia turned to me and cheekily asked if I had done my piano practise.  Unfortunately for her, we weren’t on the same ‘comedy channel’ at that moment as I recounted every-single-task I had ‘slaved’ through that day, asked if anyone accomplished anything beyond lounging around reading or watching TV, and then dared her to re-ask the question.  Of course, in hindsight, that was a little harsh.  After all, I only had to ask and the girls would have pitched in.  But no, I wanted them to help out because they thought of it and not because I asked them to.  I know, I know.  I am beginning to sound like a crazy woman. 

I came across an interview a few weeks ago whereby multi-talented Australian actor-singer-dancer-extraordinaire-all-round-decent-and-wonderful-human-being-and-husband Hugh Jackman, aka Wolfman from the X-men franchise, shared his thoughts on parenting.  What?  Did I just sound like I have a celebrity crush?  Awww, you caught me out.  But I am only human!  Anyhow, Hugh (Haha!  First name basis!  If only!) talked about how he “yells at his kids, they drive him to despair, he worries that his deficiencies as a parent mean he is slowly but surely stuffing them up”.  He also talked about and how children can push your buttons and make you feel such extreme emotions, and the anger or fire they can sometimes incite.  I was like, “Oh my goodness!  That is EXACTLY how I feel!”  So its just as well I’m not married to Hugh Jackman because it just wouldn’t work out with both of us stressing about the same things.  Sorry Hugh.

My beautiful husband Matt, on the other hand, has such a wonderful approach to parenthood.  When I read out an excerpt from that same article about how so-and-so’s mom said, “Relax, you worry too much.  You feed them, you love them, that’s it”, it was his turn to have his that-is-EXACTLY-how-I-feel moment. I sometimes feel envious of Matt and those of my friends who have this wonderful parenting style whereby they are so attuned to seeing the big picture and able to block out the ‘other stuff’ that, in actuality, is just ‘noise’ ...

But I cannot because at least every other day (if not everyday), there are ‘boxes’ that need to be ticked, exploits that need undertaking and ‘fires’ that need putting out.  AND, if we were BOTH laissez-faire and make-it-up-as-we-go-along, would our household still work the way it works (on a good day)?  Or would those ‘little things’ fall through the cracks because non-verbal clues were missed?  Would the girls learn to think beyond themselves, realise the importance of dreaming, or master the tools needed to pick themselves up and try again with a little fine-tuning?  Am I beginning to sound a little hysterical again? Sorry.  Okay, deep breath and stop panicking over all the ‘what-would-happens’.

At the end of the day, I don’t purport to be ‘superwoman’ and do not even try to pretend to have all the answers.  Honest with my girls about my shortcomings, I am not afraid ask for help and try to encourage the girls to go on fact-finding missions when appropriate. And with three such different individuals whose needs demand that my parenting style is constantly refined and modified as per child and situation; sometimes my appeals for us to work together as a team so the day is smoother works, and other times, not so well.  But it’s the life I have chosen and I am at peace with it.  All we can do is try our best to prepare them to stand confidently and successfully on their own two feet by giving them love, inspiring courage and fostering integrity.

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34. Allergic to competition

Olympics fever has people all over the world glued to their sets, cheering countries and athletes on.  As for me, the only real interest I’ve shown these past so-many-days was for the Opening Ceremony.  Now THAT brought a lump to my throat.  Why the general lack of enthusiasm?  For starters, the time difference, PLUS I am rubbish at sedentary viewing (too fidgety!).  And, if I was honest, whilst I enjoy the celebration of sportsmanship and the personal stories, I am not one for competition where for every winner, stands a whole posse of defeated souls.   Yes, I’ve been found out:  I don’t enjoy competition and the angst and agro that comes with it.  Its an 'allergy'.

I grew up in a very competitive family and when I was a child, life seemed to revolve around discussions about who got the best grade, the most As, was the most loved, etcetera.  It didn’t help that my aeronautical engineer father placed a ridiculously high value on As for science and mathematical subjects and was hugely contemptuous of everything else.  He regarded history, literature and English as disciplines introduced for the morons of society.  Much to his angst, owing to the slant of his viewpoint, I belonged to that particular group.  As such, my killer grades for what I excelled in were routinely dismissed with a “any idiot can get an A” whilst my paltry marks for maths (especially!) invited humiliation and sometimes a beating.  When my literature teacher wrote of my “tenacity” in a report card, my father interpreted the remark that I had been stubborn – so I got beaten up for that too.  I should mention I was confused at the time of the beating, wondering what I had done to invite such a ‘terrible report’ (as per my dad’s reason for the walloping) as I could have sworn I was one of Mrs Grainger’s better students seeing I routinely topped my class.  It was only years later when the memory re-surfaced that I realized my father did not understand the real meaning of ‘tenacity’.  Ah, but I digress.  

As I was saying, unfortunately for me, next to one brother gifted in Maths (now a shipbroker), another a natural with language and the written word (now a professor), plus the two extra brothers who went on to become an anesthetist and a lawyer respectively, I was officially the dummy of the group – by HIS reckoning.  But that’s okay with me --  just as long as I didn’t have to participate in stupid mind games and soul destroying politics.  And so, with such a 'stellar' introduction to the mechanics of ‘competition’, it is little wonder I am not a fan of rivalry, no matter how friendly.

But of course, it is inevitable to go through life without crossing paths with people who are competitive about EVERYTHING!  From racing to the traffic lights (even if they are red), to being competitive about jobs and earning power.  Unfortunately, much as it pains me to typecast, women (as a whole), can be the biggest culprits.  Sorry girls, but you know there is truth in what I am saying.  

It starts early, with competition revving up around the 10-year-old mark: an unspoken contest to be the smartest, the prettiest, the most sporty, the most popular.  Developing into a race for the best boyfriend, record-breaking college results, the better job, the ultimate wardrobe, etcetera, etcetera.  And then, the ultimate whammy: motherhood!  Who’s baby was the best sleeper or the best eater.  I’ve even had a woman demand why her daughter did not have the same curly hair as the waves my three daughters sport (and NO I do not colour or perm my children's hair!)!  Bizarre!  And then, when Faith was applying for schools after sitting her 11+ exams (in London) came the “Oh!  Which schools are you applying for?  Well!  Six schools have hinted at a promised-spot for MY daughter!  We just have to decide which one will provide the best contacts for her later on.”  Seriously?  BLEH!   

Don’t get me wrong, I am fiercely competitive – it is in my DNA.  I am stubbornly determined and rarely give up.  But the only person I compete against is myself, constantly setting targets and goals, always trying to improve on my last efforts.  I don’t, however, feel the need to be consumed by anything or have the desire to possess a killer instinct; nor do I have a ‘win at all cost’ mentality.  For me, my mantra revolves around balance, being true to myself and having integrity. 

My girls will have make their own decisions about how they feel about competition and while I encourage them to give things their 100 percent and tell them nothing is impossible; I also talk to them about the importance of enjoying what they do, balance, fair play and being gracious – regardless of whether they end up victorious or not.

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32: Bringing up daughters

   

I still remember the first, second AND third time each obstetrician announced Matt and I were expecting a daughter.  And each time, I was dubious.  Maybe the child had a shy member?  Sigh.  Denial?  Yes.  But I grew up with brothers and I guess in the back of my mind, my subconscious always expected at least one son. But I didn’t realize the affinity until the third time.  Nevertheless, three daughters later, the ‘shop’ is well and truly slammed shut (and sealed with super-strength cement for good measure); and unless you count Buddy (formerly known as “Homer” before we rescued him from the SPCA), I am well and truly a mother of daughters.

The first time round though, I distinctly remember telling anyone who would listen how I would NEVER EVER dress my daughter in pink.  Famous last words.  And once it started, I realized going against the tide of girlish paraphernalia Matt and I suddenly found ourselves drowning in was fruitless.

Fast forward nearly 13 years since our first daughter (and I finally see their pink phase coming to an end!), I am very thankful someone ‘up there’ had the compassion to give us three girls who are not only healthy but also very tolerant and accommodating.  Well, to be honest, to me, yes.  Towards each other, not as much as I would like.  But its all good.

A couple of weeks ago, our dinner companions seemed somewhat surprised when I voiced how going to university was non-negotiable at Chez Farlow.  The girls know the reasons behind my firm stance:

According to hearsay, in the days following my parents’ break-up my mom rang her successor to discharge a barrage of accusations.  This was followed by a missile, from the new adult in-charge of my brothers and I:   a vow that none of us would finish our education.  And so, I was ‘nudged’ out at 17 – a year before finishing high school.  What followed was a series of lousy jobs and, not surprisingly, painfully limited choices.  Long story short, after years of juggling the realities of supporting myself and signing up to courses that ranged from typing to various writing certificates and diplomas, I finally came to my senses and enrolled as a mature age university student.  I sat my final paper at the ripe old age of 32 – just before Tia was born.  And when I was done, I felt SO much better about myself – which is why I never want my girls to be hampered by the same inadequacies or be limited by available options.

But its not just about education.  I counsel the girls not to be in a hurry to have children or tie themselves to anyone for life; waxing lyrical about the importance of financial self-sufficiency, of the benefits of traveling the world to experience all it has to offer, of learning about themselves.  I urge them to do things today their future self will thank them for, preaching the importance of finding the courage to be authentic and to live with integrity.  I remind them to be kind to themselves, to show empathy and the importance of balance.  And I tell them how beautiful they are and to make sure whoever they give themselves to treats them with the same love, care and respect as their father shows to me.  And finally, I encourage them to dream.

I never expected to have children, let alone daughters.  And though sometimes I wake up in a panic in the middle of the night, worrying about how I can protect them from the pests of the world, my daughters make my heart smile and their existence spurs me on to be the best person I am – if only to lead by example.

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