“Thanks for agreeing to meet up again,” I greeted my 35 year old self.
We sat down with our coffees, hers a hazelnut with half and half and sugar, mine black.
“We drink our coffee black now? Ugh. I am still indebted to you for introducing us to hazelnut flavored coffee,” she said.
“Well, I think some of our taste buds have died off now , but yes, we like black coffee,” I replied, then added, “You’ve grown up a bit since we last met, but there’s more I want to tell us now that we are a parent.”
She ran her fingers through her shortish brown bob, smiled, and replied, “I think I’m doing pretty well at parenting, but it’s hard. I should have said, ‘WE are doing well at co-parenting.’”
“Oh, you and Harvey certainly are. What are you most proud of?” I asked.
“We read to them every night. It’s part of the bedtime routine, after baths and before prayers. I really want this to last for as long as possible. Or for as long as they want it to. Until they’d rather read themselves to sleep.”
“Yes, you and Harvey really set a great routine. And making books such an integral part of their lives early on does serve them well. We’ll go through a spell with them when they don’t like to read—I think it was because of all the required reading in high school—but they come through the other side of that as great readers. We definitely instilled that in our daughters. What else do you think we are doing well?”
She took a sip of her coffee as she thought, then replied, “Hmm, well, Harvey and I are modeling the co-partnering thing pretty well, I think. Running the clinic and the household jointly is teaching them that it is possible to have this type of marriage.”
Smiling into her eyes, I responded, “Well, you both did set the expectations pretty high. I love that we modeled that ideal and that our daughters grew up knowing that they can find spouses who are willing to step up and be true partners in marriage and parenting. The guys our daughters end up marrying do live up to Harvey’s example of a wonderful partner and husband pretty beautifully.”
“Wow, what an affirmation. But I you mentioned high expectations. Do our daughters live up to ours?” she asked.
“Well, our expectations are fairly high. We’re putting pressure on our daughters pretty thickly to be good, to be polite, and to be clean and tidy,” I said as kindly as I could.
Taken aback, she responded, “What do you mean? It’s important that they are well behaved, polite, and don’t make unnecessary messes.”
“That’s what we think right now, but we’ve learned by watching those very same daughters interact with their children, niece, and nephew. They believe that the better qualities to cultivate are kindness, creativity, and authenticity.”
She was a bit indignant. “But children can’t go around being rude, disrespectful, and dirty.”
“Of course not!” I conceded. “I’m just saying that it’s not as important as we think it is for them to say ‘m’am’ and ‘sir’ to us as their parent. You think it’s a sign of respect right now. Lots of people still do. But it’s just words. How they treat us is more important than what they call us.”
“My grandchildren don’t say ‘yes, m’am’ or ‘no, sir’ to us or their parents? That’s crazy. Have they given up on ‘please’ and ‘thank you,’ too?”
I chuckled, “No, no. Those are still important words. It’s just that saying ‘m’am’ and ‘sir’ are not necessarily signs of respect. We eventually learn not to flinch when those words are not used automatically. We get over it. Mainly, because these grandchildren absolutely love and respect us and their parents.”
“OK.” she replied. “What else?”
“Well, tell me this. I know the answer already, but what do we do when our toddler has a tantrum in public?” I asked.
“I am so proud of myself. Just the other day, she laid down on the floor of the department store screaming about losing her ‘Soft Wabbit.’ I carefully explained that Soft Wabbit was probably in the car and that she would get her back as soon as we finished shopping. I just let her scream and cry with people around. I smiled politely at them, and no one seemed upset. Except her.”
“I remember. Then what did we do?”
“Well, eventually, I just couldn’t take it anymore, and I scooped her up, put her in the stroller, and left. We couldn’t keep making a scene like that.”
“But you never acknowledged how misplacing Soft Wabbit made her feel sad.”
“Of course she was sad. She was having a meltdown over it.”
“Well, we learned, again from that same girl when she herself becomes a mother, how important it is to say those words, in a calm and soothing way. It lets the child know that they are understood.” After a pause, I said, “Let me ask another question. What do we do when one of our children spills something?”
“Oh, that’s hard. I’m not proud of this, but I usually jump up, loudly exclaiming something like, ‘Look what you’ve done!’ Then dash around looking for a rag or paper towel to clean it right up. I’m sure you’re about to tell me we’re not doing that right. But it’s our immediate reaction. We can’t seem to help it.”
I laughed out loud at that. It was so accurate. “Sister! How I wish we had learned this sooner. Again, watching that same child as a mother taught us to take a breath, then calmly wipe away the spill. Children spill things. They can’t help it. Their motor skills haven’t fully developed yet. And messes can always be cleaned up. It’s not a disaster.”
“I know, I know,” she sighed. “What else?”
I continued, “Well, the same principle applies when the children are playing outside. We were so quick to wipe their faces, clean their little bodies—only to have them get dirty again. That frustrated us so much.”
Again she sighed, “I know, I know.”
“Children get dirty. It’s important that they explore their surroundings—dirt and leaves and sand. You can clean them up at the end of the day. This is hard to imagine, but we actually watched one grandchild put sand in their mouth. The parents didn’t panic, and neither did we.”
She perked up at that. “Really? We let the children eat dirt and sand and just wallow in the mud without cleaning them up immediately? Amazing.”
I grew more solemn. “One last thing, sis. We learn that as important as fairness, consistency, and impartiality are, we cannot parent each child identically. Realizing that children are all different from each other, it goes to follow that they will need to be parented differently according to their own personalities.”
“That makes sense. Trying different techniques to see what works best for each child sounds like a plan. This has all been so helpful. Thank you.”
“Here’s my final word. Our daughters are quite amazing, so don’t beat yourself up too badly, as hard as parenting seems right now. Our girls turn out to be lovely young women with very kind hearts. We did a fine job parenting them.”
We smiled at each other from across the table and promised to meet again in another fifteen years or so.