Skip to main content

Parenting

I just read a post on Facebook regarding the dearth of parenting. The poster was describing a scene where two young girls were pelting rocks at some ducks in our little town and how he observed no parents around telling these girls that it was wrong to torture little innocent animals. Within hours, there were 15 responses - all alluding to a lack of parenting that is evident nearly everywhere today.

Stick with me here - because that conversation reminded me of one I'd had recently that might not seem related to parenting at all. It was with my oldest son about his concern about the selfishness of our culture - most recently evident in the Wall Street meltdown. He believes that we are too focused on "Me" and not enough on "We" and if we had a little more focus on the total and just not our part, we would be in a much better place.

Still there?

Okay, here's the cement that will hold this together - those girls pelting little ducks with rocks weren't likely taught, by their parents, that hurting others is wrong. Maybe because the parents weren't around. Maybe because they had to work too many hours and couldn't parent when they got home because they were too tired. Or maybe because they didn't want to spend the time teaching life lessons to their offspring. Or maybe because they didn't want to chastise their little darlings because then the little darlings would cry or wouldn't love them anymore. There could be a whole list of 'maybes' or excuses.

Parenting is selfless. Parenting is all about others and thinking of "We" and rarely "Me". Wall Street attitudes have invaded Main Street living rooms. It doesn't always feel good to do the job of parenting correctly.

But here is where the Glass is Half-Full - parenting is the toughest job you will ever love. The rewards are life-long and infinite.

That's all for today - I've got some parenting to do!

Comments

It's not a popularity contest, but ...

Ten Year

When I was in junior high school, I staged a sit-in and learned about 'ten year'. This will come as a total surprise to most of you readers - I was not a perfectly well behaved child. I know, I know - you're shocked, amazed, in wonder how I could have turned out to be so well-behaved despite the oats sown in my youth.  And the sit-in is a perfect example of how I marched to the beat of my own drummer. Miss Brown was an English teacher - and not a very popular one. She would invoke the yardstick on wayward student's hands and scowl the moment we walked into the classroom. We weren't very kind to Miss Brown but then she wasn't very kind to us, either. Personally, the hardest part of having Miss Brown as an English teacher is that she nearly ruined my love of my favorite topic in school. It was the year we were to learn grammar (have I ever mentioned that as a writer I detest grammar?). I think some new way of teaching English was introduced and in all l...

Blubbering Idiot

While doing crunches this morning, I turned on the TV to keep my mind off the exercise I was about to do and the movie "Gran Torino" was playing. It was nearly 3/4 of the way done. Perfect, I thought, I can watch the end of one of my newest favorite movies. Fifteen minutes later, I'm a puddle of tears on the floor. The end of that movie dissolves me to tears every time - and I think I've seen it now about six or seven times. When Clint Eastwood's character goes about his last day - including a lame confession with the priest - locking 'Toad' in the basement, I begin to get weepy. SCENE SPOILER ALERT ! But when he is shot down and is splayed as though crucified on the cross, I become a blubbering idiot. So much softness and sacrifice in one so tough and gruff - it highlights the intensity of his sacrifice for his new family next door. I only need watch the last few minutes of "Gran Torino" to get the full emotional effect. The same can be said...

Hair today gone tomorrow

Before you all begin to think I’m breezing completely through chemo, let me remind you of this:   For the most part I am bald. Or if not completely bald, fuzzy headed, and not in the way I think or am thinking, but in the appearance. A little like a hedgehog or a porcupine with bald patches. On Super Bowl Sunday while most of you were overeating or filling out those little squares to wager on the upcoming game, John and I were having a unique pre-game party. In front of our bathroom mirror with clippers and scissors. Preparing for the certainty of hair loss from my chemo, I decided to buzz my locks to lessen the shock and mess of of losing large chunks of my silver, shoulder-length hair. It was in all honesty one of the most poignant moments in our 30+  year marriage. I had originally asked my friend and former stylist if she could do it . But when I shared my plan with John, he said that he wanted to do it. Certainly that was not expected. So instead of watching th...