The Parenting Dream



Spencer and Denver have developed a deep
fascination with marine life.



If parenting were as easy as I expected it to be, my life would be much less exciting.  My children are not the easily moldable creatures I imagined they would be before I actually had them.  I suppose every parent realizes this at some point.  My first realization came about ten years ago when my first born two-year old was not interested in horses or dogs, but preferred wooden trains and plastic dinosaurs.  Learning to let go of my dreams and help my children pursue their own unique paths is both challenging and wonderful.  



For the last decade, I am reminded daily that my dreams for them are just that: dreams.  My children have their own passions; and although we agree on many things-- "Latin and history are fun!"-- I find that it is best to help them learn through following their own interests instead of mine.  I also harbor fantasies about how they should behave-- when I say, "Time to brush your teeth; they should say, 'Yes, Ma'am,' and do it immediately,"-- These unrealistic expectations are just fantasies that tend to make everyone miserable when they are not met.  If I make my expectations more realistic-- "Brush your teeth before bed," -- then we all get along much better.  I'm learning; but not fast enough.



Denver gave me another little kick in the pants last week.  After watching him toodle around the pool during swim team practice-- seeing how far he could squirt water out of his mouth, refusing to freestyle in favor of keeping his head up so he could chat with his buddy as he swam-- I couldn't resist speaking with him after class.  "Buddy, you weren't doing what the coach said.  It was a little embarrassing to see you not doing your best."

Denver enjoys "Eye of the Tiger" on our
new ipod.

Denver paused and looked at me before speaking.  "Mom, there is no need for you to be embarrassed.  No one knows I'm your son."

I was speechless.  In many ways, he was right.  He wasn't worried about what other people thought.  He wasn't hurting anyone.  He was trying to make the best of swim team practice by amusing himself.  I made him join the swim team; he's just dealing with it.  I decided to leave him alone.   



Last week, I met a lovely woman who is mother to two young sons.  We were talking after swim team practice, and she asked where I lived.  When I told her that we lived nearby, she immediately said, "Well, I guess you'll plan for them to go to Oxford College and then on to Emory."  She seemed serious.  I was taken aback by her assumption that I would plan out the boys' adult lives for them.  I didn't know what to say.  I almost laughed and said, "Yes, and I've chosen their college majors and their wives for them, too!"  Instead, I said, "Oh, well, that would certainly be nice.  We'll see."




To some extent, we parents cannot resist planning and hoping for our children.  As a homeschooling parent, I am particularly prone to worrying about their academic progress.  Yet deep down, it is becoming clear to me that my worries are more about me and my parenting dreams than about anything real.  They continue to learn-- with and without my guidance.  They are on their own unique paths.  Now . . . if I can just remember that when Denver walks downstairs insisting on wearing his purple shirt and red and blue plaid pants to church.  He says, "What do you think?  Am I Jazzy?!"