On a seemingly unrelated note, both my parents had very interesting, very different childhoods. Without going into too much detail, each had their pros and cons. So it’s interesting to take that knowledge and look back at my own upbringing. Without my parent’s experiences (both good and bad), I would have been raised differently, as well.
Anyway, I finished reading a book recently called A Reading Promise by Alice Ozma which comes out the first week in May. Anyway, it just got me thinking about fathers and daughters and raising kids in general. And while I know that I’m light years (please) from having kids, I still know there are some things I’ve taken from my childhood that I will apply to my own kids. And there are also those things that I didn’t necessarily experience but that I think I might have benefited from.
So now, for no apparent reason, and just because I want to, here’s a list of things I hope to do for my kid(s). It’s the opposite of my ShouldaWouldaCouldas; it’s my When-I-Get-The-Chances:
- I will read to my kids. I will read out loud to them. I will read next to them. I will read at them. I will drown those darn spawn in all the classics. And the non-classics. And the funnies. Whatever it takes, my kids will appreciate the written word.
- I will teach my kids about religion. Note, I will not necessarily bring them up in a religion. I can’t help but feel it’s a little hypocritical of me to do that when I’m so religiously ambiguous. But they will go, however begrudgingly, on Christmas and Easter, decked out in the most ridiculous, foofy outfits I can get my hands on. They will know the importance of religion.
- I will ask my kids to write. It doesn’t matter what they write or for how long, but I want my kids to keep some sort of journal. I realize that asking kids to do that is near impossible, but I will do everything in my power to make it happen. And part of that means giving them privacy. However tempting, I will never read my children’s journals without their approval. In those pages, they can say whatever they like, they can vent and complain and share the intimate details of their way-too-young-to-be-having-sex lives. It will be for their eyes and theirs alone.
- I will hug them. This seems like an obvious, but I still love hugs and kissed form my parents. My kids will feel that same love.
- I will teach them. This seems obvious, too. But I mean really teach them. I will be one of those psycho moms buying Baby Einstein videos and putting headphones on my preggo belly. It’s a crazy world out there and I would hope that I can do everything possible early on to help my kids succeed.
- This one’s still in the works, but I don’t think I want my kids to work. It may have been because of my living environment (where work was expected), but I felt immense pressure to work and it often took priority over schoolwork. Though I’d encourage them to work during the summers, during school, the one and only priority is class. Then extra curriculars and sports. Then a healthy social life. Then work. Internships may be a slight middle ground that will require a conversation.
- I will put them through music lessons, especially any girls. This sounds sexist and maybe it is, but there is something so quintessentially beautiful and lovely about a woman who can play the piano. And yes I realize that few of the Austen heroines were ever very good at it, but they knew how.
- They will play sports. Sports are beneficial for many reasons. Obviously they help to keep kids in shape, but they also foster a sense of community and competition, both of which are necessary to avoid “Single Child Syndrome.”
- I will have pets. They’re fluffy. Plus, pets and kids tend to wear each other out. It’s a win-win.
You know, come to think of it, that’s a long list. Kids are a big freaking deal, aren’t they (duh). What I didn’t mention above, however, is that I will also work. I may change my mind (kinda depends on the hubby situation), but I want to still maintain that sense of self, that sense of purpose. I need to know.
Inspired by my own mother, I long ago made a commitment to myself that I won’t marry or start a family until I know that I am capable of taking care of myself and them. God forbid anything happen—divorce, death, illness—I need to know in my heart of hearts that I can keep everybody afloat. That doesn’t necessarily mean that I have to be working the whole time. If the situation deems that I should be a stay-at-home soccer mom, I will. But I need that knowledge for myself and my potential family.
Anyway, that ended on such a morbid tone. More than morbid, it’s just iffy. The world of When-I-Get-the-Chances is much more overwhelming that the world of ShouldaWouldaCouldas, perhaps because it looms, ever-present, in the far-off but still visible future. I mean, I’m 18. I always just assumed I’d get married in my late-20s. So I have about a decade to live out my single craziness before becoming domesticated. Or maybe that’s what marriage and kids are, anyway: domestication.
As a random, irrelevant side note, all this makes me sound like some wild dog that needs to be housebroken. Woof?
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