Pushing Kids Away, or how to create lonely empty-nesters

What with her sweet new baby (right), and all, my sister and I had been talking a lot about attachment... and by natural extension, attachment disorders, and how easily you can find examples in the wild.


She asked, rhetorically, 'why is it that the parents who spent the kid's whole childhood pushing the child away, arranging daycare and babysitters and ordering the child outdoors, or at least into distant rooms, are also the parents who complain endlessly that their adult children don't have time for them and never call or write?'


Cue the smirk.


Is that not the apparent goal of every parent who celebrates 

~ the first day of school

~ the first day back to school after any break or long weekend

~ or who laments the cost of boarding school 

~ or who threatens that social services or the police will come and take the kids away and give mum a 'break' 

Is it not clearly their goal to keep the children as far away as possible, for as long as possible? 



Does it strike anyone but me that it's a tragedy that so many 'normal' parents are working diligently toward goals they do not wish to achieve?

They accomplish this through the very simple process of mindlessly doing what all the rest of the 'normal' parents seem to be doing.

Following the advice all the 'normal' parenting experts, those warning parents to comply lest they fall prey the evils of permissiveness, cause arrested development or, horror of all horrors, 'losing themselves.'  

And daily, moment by moment, walking further from the goals they do wish to achieve.


Even way back in the dark ages (1974), when Sandy Chapin wrote the poem, which became the lyrics to Harry Chapin's Cats Cradle, at least one person recognized the path taken when the son's need for his father is dismissed for decades only to be supplanted by the father's need for the son.


Richard Carlson, author of Don't Sweat the Small Stuff, had a brilliant insight as a father, regarding the insidious idea of 'me-time': why would I actively avoid spending time with the people I love most in the world?


How is spending time with the people we love anything but me-time? 

And, because I'm in a noticing kind of frame of mind, I just noticed that this whole 'me-time' necessity has been created entirely by the current generation of parents and parenting experts who are bleating on about how this generation of youngsters have the most outrageous sense of entitlement ever... hmmm...

Spend a week pushing a child away because you have more important things to do, and you'll have some work to catch up on when you're free --to re-connect and reassure and just be together to establish a relationship with this child who has now had 168 hours of development without your presence. 

Spend a month 'too busy' and you find yourself facing a changed child who is no longer someone you can predict accurately, and whose cues and communication have changed from the last time you met. 

Spend a year away from a child and you will encounter a different person. Spend a child's childhood away and you will be facing a stranger, who you might remember used to like a particular colour or didn't used to want to eat a specific food, but who now you do not know at all.

From the small child's point of view, the week is a serious problem, the month is traumatic, a year is everything he can remember and his whole childhood: even if he feels a bit guilty about his natural resistance to approaching his parents, his natural resistance is based entirely in a lifetime of rejection.


Barbara Coloroso so deftly recommends: spend time with your children while they're still young and want to.

Kids are Entitled? Amy claims 'I deserve better'

Oh deary me. 

In an effort to explain, she says, that the book is her own coming of age story --a memoir of how she learned to become a better parent and to let her daughter give up the violin-- and how people don't seem to be getting the joke, she's interviewed on Friday, January 14, 2010.


During an interview with CBC, Amy Chua digs her hole just a little bit deeper:

... even a generation or two ago here, there was a lot more of a sense of like you owe your parents a sense of decency, a sense of respect, a sense of gratitude and I really don't like a lot of what I see today, which is a lot of these kids that are very pampered and very entitled and want more more more, buy me more equipment, buy me more iPhones, buy me more this ...

I find it mildly ironic that I was just looking over Alfie Kohn's review of permissive parenting research (there is none) and increasingly narcissistic children from generation to generation (there is none of that, either) or any evidence that helicopter parenting is damaging (nor any of that), and here is Amy having a bit of a rant about what is 'wrong' with all these children raised the 'wrong' way. 

Excuse me while I quote someone else on the subject for a moment:

I see no hope for the future of our people if they are dependent on frivolous youth of today, for certainly all youth are reckless beyond words... When I was young, we were taught to be discreet and respectful of elders, but the present youth are exceedingly disrespectful and impatient of restraint.*

It is, as Kohn points out, an item of faith that children are more narcissistic than ever before, that helicopter parenting is problematic and that permissive parenting is fruitless and creates unsuccessful children. Except the research simply does not exist. In fact, the research that does exist:

... published in Pediatrics, discovered that there is indeed a parental practice associated with children who later become demanding and easily frustrated.  But it’s not groovy, indulgent parenting.  It’s spanking.

But I want to give Amy a shovel, so she can really dig in. The hypocrisy between what she states as her values and her own attitude: oh my! From fairly late in the interview, as she really gets to chatting (referring to the child's making of a birthday card):

I think that you can do better and I think that you owe me a little bit more, and I think that people balk at that, too: 'oh my god, she wants more'

Sorry, could I just highlight that? Maybe bold and italics: I think you owe ME a little bit more. 

This, in the midst of a thought-free rant about the sense of entitlement in children. I wonder 'are you looking in a mirror, here?'


From earlier in the interview, regarding the same anecdote:

Nope, this is not good enough. You know, when it's your birthday, I spend my whole salary hiring a magician and baking you a cake and having big parties and buying all these party favours and getting waterslides and I deserve better than this...

Okay. First, this is a four-year-old she is talking to. The 4yo is the reason she spends buckets of money on lavish parties? Who is running this household? Seriously... 


And, to be pedantic about her point, let me once more pick out the phrase that I believe --were it said by someone, 4, 14 or even 24, would be gilded and plastered onto a Youth Entitlement Wall of Shame somewhere:

I deserve better than this.

Do I have to say anything at all here?

_____________
*quoted from Hesiod, 8th century BC

Does parenting the popular way have to oppress kids?

An astute friend on an email list reminded me: 

Ever tried re-framing a parenting decision by imagining whether it would be okay to do to your spouse or another adult?

Imagine an alternate version of Chua's book giving relationship advice: "[insert group/racial descriptor] Marriages are Superior" containing descriptions of the dominant spouse treating their powerless spouse in the way that Chua treats her children....

... and imagine
that throughout they are touting themselves as the ideal that other's should strive to achieve.

I doubt very much that any publisher would dare publish a book like that.

I do like to think of parenting decisions in that way, which is more or less just the Golden Rule: Would you like to be treated that way?

Amy Chua's tempest-in-a-teacup book Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother seems to be the whole opposite: treating children in a way that she absolutely refuses to be treated: with contempt, superiority, intolerance and raging entitlement. For more about that, see this post: Why One Chinese Mom is NOT Superior...


Would you keep a job after your boss called you 'garbage' or refused to allow you to use the washroom or eat until you'd performed a task the way s/he wanted you to?

Isn't this more or less why people are not allowed to own people?

I am reminded of Alfie Kohn, and his ever-so-insightful ideas, from Unconditional Parenting: 

Why should an adult's preference win?

Sheerly on the basis that it is an adult's preference?

This is where I stopped, when my children were really, really little: if it's only my idea of what's the right thing for them to do right now, not some real need or real emergency, why is it supposed to matter to my kids? 

More to the point, relating to Chua and her controlling and demanding schedule: is it really supposed to matter to me to the tune of a 4 hour power struggle?

To me, it's obvious that dinner time is arbitrary. Sure, whole swaths of the population will agree that dinner time is 5pm or 6pm or 7:30pm or 8pm. What's that got to do with anyone's hunger? 

What's it got to do with any child? 

As I have said ever since Ford came up with it as a slogan: a million people can absolutely be wrong, and why not? What possible force in the world can stop a million independent people from making the same erroneous choice, even if it's buying a Ford, driving drunk, or arguing in favour of head-shots in hockey.


So what if, ostensibly, a billion Chinese agree that the 'right' way to raise children is to decide for them what is their art, which school subjects matter the most to them (or their future), what they are allowed to do, what is valuable for them to do with their free time --if they are even deemed to have any?

Even if a billion Chinese people do agree (and I would expect that at least four probably don't) with Amy Chua, that doesn't make her (or them) right. It just means they agree. 

Perhaps they've been swayed by similar arguments. 

Perhaps they have been told, one way or another, for their whole lives that they must. 

Perhaps they haven't really thought about it and have never felt any pressing reason to think about it.


Or perhaps it doesn't matter, really, to any child growing up anywhere, who else agrees with Amy Chua...maybe because she's wrong.

Why one Chinese mother is NOT superior: suicide, abuse, trauma

I wrote this in the midst of this storm, and now I wonder what hole Amy has since fallen into... oh my... the internet is such a rich place. In 2014 Chau outs herself as a total racist, with her new book (is her publisher tired of this yet?) which I will certainly never read, and don't endorse, so I won't even name it. Her children claim to have had a 'tough childhood but a happy one' and dad points out 'they really love her'--of course they do, they're her children. That isn't really the point.

This is my original text: 

Since it's the current storm across the internet is Why Chinese Mothers are Superior, including thousands of comments right on the Wall St. Journal site itself, I thought I'd join in.


When I first finished reading the entire article, my first thought was: 

I wonder what is the difference in suicide rates between children raised this way and the Western way?

Better journalists than I have already found this, from CNN: Push to achieve tied to suicide in Asian-American women. The tremendously sarcastic part of me says 'well, at least they got As instead of A-minuses...' But, more seriously, this is not a hearty endorsement of Ms. Chua's assertion that "Chinese parents raise such stereotypically successful kids." I don't think disproportionately high suicide rates equal 'success.'


I do bristle at this:

What Chinese parents understand is that nothing is fun until you're good at it. To get good at anything you have to work, and children on their own never want to work, which is why it is crucial to override their preferences. 

Wow... is that ever not my experience. I've watched babies who can't stand for more than a second or two giggling in joy at the fun of falling over, wobbling, trying again and again and again. 

I've watched 8 year-olds slog through pages and pages of words they couldn't read, trying to break the code, so they could play the computer game that requires their reading skills to be far beyond their 'grade level.' 

I've watched 12 year-olds play the same battle on a video game, over and over and over again, talking together and trying different strategies until they win. 

I've watched a 14 year-old sew and pick out the same seam ten, twelve, fifteen times in order to create the look she wanted, convinced it was possible and that she could do it.



Ms. Chua has clearly not spent any time reading the biographies of the preternaturally talented: Wayne Gretzky on the ice until after dark day after day; David Beckham's endless corner kick practice; Stephen King's 1000s of words of writing every day since he was a teenager... 

... examples abound throughout every single field of human endeavour. That is, specifically, intentional ongoing boring and reward-free practice and entirely voluntary work on a chosen activity.


And, while we're there: how 'fun' is anything once it's mastered? Does anyone giggle the whole time they're walking, for the sheer joy of it, more than 3 months after they've really figured it out? 

The fun in life is in becoming good at things, in the discovery that we can do more than we thought, certainly not in simply performing things we already know we're great at. Sure, it's fun from time to time to impress others, but that's a thin joy. It's extending ourselves to ever-new heights, overcoming new challenges, surpassing our last achievements, or trying completely new things-- even failing totally at them.


There is so much more...

• What is so magical about piano and violin? Why not guitar and sax? Why not drums and harp?
• Why musical performance and not acting or sports? No... really --what is better about classical music compared to classical theatre? How is music better than physical activity? Why not one instrument and one sport? Is it only because there is no way to get an A as a hockey player?
• Have we determined that 'success' in life doesn't include being happy? 
• Did all the research about 'good grades don't make life success' disappear?

I found the description of the protracted piano practice disturbing, but the justification using the child's behaviour later than night is a real problem for me. 

The story reminded me a little of the creepy stories of children who have been terrified by something, whose parents think they're 'fine' because the child is sitting still, not crying or making a fuss. 

Those children are experiencing the natural response to tremendous stress: fear paralysis. Children aren't strong enough to fight and running away triggers a curious predator's instinct to pounce, so their best chance of survival is to hide, stay still and silent and hope to be mistaken for a tree. Their silence is not an indication that they're 'fine', it is an indication that they've been traumatized.

When a child who has been unable to connect with her mother's approval and affection for hours and hours and hours, because of some inability to meet some demand or expectation, is finally able to appease her, the relief she feels will take over her whole body. 

She'll giggle, snuggle, and cling to mother in the hopes of never, ever again experiencing the deep sense of discord between needing her mother's affection and love, and what she has to perform to get it. 


Repeat this too often, and the attachment will cease to be elastic enough to withstand the tension. The child will disconnect... from something. Mom. Life. Herself.

Who cares? As long as she gets an A...

Do All Stay-at-home Parents Have to be Stupid?

Years ago, I ran across an article in the now-defunct Home Education Magazine. The short version, in case you don't feel like finding a back issue and reading the whole thing: 

Amy Hollingsworth ruminates on what is 'missing' from a stay-at-home-mom's life, mainly work that will not be undone tomorrow... laundry that's just going to get dirty, meals that are eaten, children who will need a bath again, and her perspective of how to find a tangibly rewarding aspect to motherhood and housewifehood.

This is a perspective that has long bothered me. She says, at one point:

"Not like the tangible sense of accomplishment you might get after finishing a report or closing a deal or saying something really smart in a board meeting."

Uh... saying something really smart in a board meeting is tangible?

I worked for years before having children, and I have to say that closing a deal might be momentarily satisfying, but in a moment there are other open deals that need to be closed, and others still that are unopened... that never ends, anywhere. 



There are few jobs where people finish the work and never have to repeat it, or something quite a lot like it, tomorrow. The report might be all crisp and bound, but it's not the last report. It will be revised, there will be editorial changes, it will need to be added to or there will be a different one to do. 

No one, in any job, walks home at the end of Friday and says 'there, that's done once and for all' with nothing to do on Monday. Even one big win doesn't stop the workflow, getting a huge project completely finished is satisfying, but it only completely clears the desk of someone whose job ends simultaneously.

The tangible rewards of motherhood and housewifehood are akin to the kind in the work world: I can enjoy the fresh air scent of the line-dried sheets when I replace them on my bed, and when I stick my nose into the linen closet, and I know I've accomplished something that is as lasting as the employee review, or serving the last table of the night. 

If I don't believe the clean linens have value, or I don't value my effort (however much was done by technology), the accomplishment will not feel like one. But the same can be said of an employee review that is ticked boxes and requires the use of phrases written by others, or not being the one who made the food being served.

I believe that the key to healthy sanity is in personally valuing what we do. If I feel that tidying up the Lego  is drudgery or not worth my time, or what servants should be doing for me, or it should stay tidied up because I tidied it up ever... I'm going to have no difficulty slipping into the misery of unfairness, of being asked too much, of not being wealthy enough to own slaves or not being appreciated enough by others who should see Lego tidying as more valuable than I do.

This is the core of the problem with grades and praise and employee reviews and rewards and awards: they take the onus for appreciation off the person doing the work and put it 'out there' --where the tangibility of the smart thing said in the board room first has to be acknowledged as such by others. 

When an accomplishment has at all to do with being seen by others, then I can feel exactly the same kind of tangible sense of accomplishment by saying something brilliant to a child, or even to myself in the kitchen... because it's either smart or it isn't, who hears it cannot be related.

I suspect that what many mothers feel the lack of is the pats on the back. 

When one is required to seek to find ones own sense of accomplishment, it challenges something we've come to believe is necessary for the functioning of the galaxy: an external witness. 

Yet, a huge part of self-esteem is being able to see, and value, ourselves accurately without relying on external praise or rewards to prop us up.

After my first was born, I went through an interesting change of heart. While I used to believe that what I did at work was valuable and a good use of my time, and worth what I got paid for it, I came to discover that it wasn't. In fact, it went from feeling important to feeling irrelevant. Anyone could move that paper around, answer that phone effectively, transfer those calls, write those reports, organize that workflow --only I could mother my daughter. I felt for the first time that what I was doing actually mattered, both in terms of what it was I was doing, and that it was me doing it.

From that initial discovery, my self-esteem came to be linked very closely with what I thought was valuable, not what other people might see, or think, or believe. So, my house is messy --and my children are loved and healthy and nurtured. The laundry really piles up, and I nurture my family with food made with care and love, skill and knowledge. The dandelions on the lawn are thriving, and I have nothing better to do with my energy than sit up until 3:35 a.m. talking with my 21 year old daughter about her day, her friends, her thoughts and her discoveries.

One of my tangible accomplishments has always been that the week ended with people who experienced many great moments, laid down some excellent memories, have fun stories to tell and deep connections between them. How can a job, a paycheque or a employee award, or the applause of the board compete with that?

No, Actually, I Do Not Want Your Kid to be Quieter in the Restaurant --you do

I find restaurant dining one simple joy in life, offering opportunities for everyone at the table to follow their own whims about what to eat without imposing themselves on anyone else. 

I like the vibrant noise of restaurants, the mix if smells, the comings and goings and different timings. 

Knowing about the frenzy behind the scenes and the fact that I don't have to do the dishes just adds a layer of enjoyment to the outing. I like food, and I like variety, and I like trying new things.

What I do not like is parents with their children.

Let me be clear: children, I can deal with. Even the random and chaotic noises children make, I have no problem with.

 I haven't eaten in a hushed restaurant in probably 25 years, so child noises fit in with the noise of forks, breaking glasses, moving plates, the music that many eateries feel is a necessary part of the ambiance, and people talking and laughing over the noise.

I find it mildly annoying to listen to parents trying to hush the natural and inevitable noise children make in an environment that they're barely making a contribution to, much less standing out in. I lose my tolerance when parents lie to the child.

Stop Lying to Your Child, and Stop Blaming Me

If you want your kids to be quieter, just tell them to be quieter. 

If you need to get other people's opinions involved in the request to be quieter, own it yourself. 

Do not tell them that I want them to be quieter unless I have already confirmed that story, because I probably don't. 


In fact, out of all of you at your table, I want you to be quieter --I don't want to listen to you using me to pressure your kid to behave the way you (not I) want your kid to behave. 



I certainly do not want to listen to you make noises that sound like an air compressor. Of all the noises in the world that are louder than the ambient sound in any large, people-filled space, shushing is nearly as disturbing as gunshots.

The Insanity Box: What Are They Thinking?

During a conversation with a client a few months ago, the topic of 'all those voices in my head' came up. You know the ones, you're mildly wandering through a mall with a child who, upon reflection, probably isn't wearing the cleanest clothes, and their left shoe is untied and you aren't up for the struggle of getting it tied today, and you just realized you don't even know where a hairbrush is... and you catch sight of one of those faces in the crowd. Someone looks at your child, makes a face like it's encountered a bad smell, and glares at you.

Is there anyone who doesn't immediately roll out the litany of all the things that face is thinking?

• why isn't that child in clean clothes?
• who is that incompetent mother?
• doesn't anyone love the child enough to tie its shoes?
• let us hope that scraggly woman is the babysitter, although whose poor judgement hired her?
• is hair brushing out of style?
• parents should have to pass competency tests...

While it would be fun to list all the other potential things that face was actually thinking... 

'my kid was such a brat at that age...'

'that mom sure has it good, she didn't have to listen to my mother criticizing everything about her... '

'I hate being reminded of my deceased child in malls... '

'I wonder if my daughter will ever let me see my grandchild... '

'I hated being a child, I was never allowed to be so free...'

Yeah, that's fun... 


...but the problems parents face aren't just that they're no good at telepathy, and worse at predicting what anyone around them is likely to be thinking at any given moment --however good they are at accurately guessing the mood.

The problem is that the voices that give such snarky and vile tones to the words in those thoughts are supplied within the parent's head, not from outside.

At some point in our lives, we have heard, half-heard and half-understood a great deal of emotionally-loaded criticism. 

That we don't remember when we first heard them, or what the context was or even who it was who said it, or who repeated it, or who we didn't hear or notice contradicting it at the time is... interesting, but not really worth spending a lot of time exploring, in my opinion. The issue is right now, today, and the hit our self-esteem gets from our own minds when the litany is replayed, and replayed and replayed...

Terry Pratchett, in Monstrous Regiment, describes a deceased god, who is now nothing more than reflections and echoes of prayers and requests, 'nothing but a poisonous echo of all your ignorance and pettiness and maliciousness and stupidity.' 

A quote which was rolling around in my head when my client described her personal litany of 'I'm a bad mom' that she expects to be going on in other's heads when they look at her.

"Those voices are just your Insanity Box," I quipped, completely out of the air.

"What's an Insanity Box?"

Echoes and reflections, interfering with each other, amplifying each other and recalling each other, voices of half-remembered, half-understood comments from almost anyone, often directed at someone else at the time... and a name gives a person power over it. 

Once there is a name for the Insanity Box, the owner becomes aware of the ownership, and the power of the Witness is developed. 
The Witness is the part of everyone that is the 'me' who says 'that sounds good to me', the 'I' who says 'I feel...' 

Once the Witness is aware of the Insanity Box it can perceive the voices as 'over there' or,

even more powerfully, 'not me.'

From that point on, there is a new way to deal with the litany of criticisms whether expected or imagined: 'oh, that's just my Insanity Box getting heated up again...' 

Eventually, it even becomes possible to see that a lot of people's critical words and harsh tones are nothing but their Insanity Box speaking through their mouths, not what they really think and feel at all. Peace at last...