There is a sad reality about growing up a little boy. Or growing out of being a little boy. How that soft, naive infancy is usurped all too quickly by a hard pragmatism and, potentially, tainted by a desire - a need - to be bigger, stronger, better than every other little boy. That, or withdraw behind some mental construct that provides the semblance of protection from those same bigger, stronger, better little boys. Even though they're not.
Form your armour as early as possible and shore up any chinks before they can be exploited.
I look at my own two sons, barely nascent, and the responsibility of being the father to them - the kind of father I so desperately want to be - scares the shit out of me. Makes me think I'd better be nice to the dogs in their presence, at the very least.
I'm well past the point in my life where I started making comparisons about child-rearing. I frequently look back at my own past and think about what I will do differently; for which choices will I take a different path? This is an inevitable point reached for any young parents. The safer route - the easier way - to paraphrase the Golden Rule, is to do unto yours as was done unto you. Arguably the most common route, and besides, part of you may feel guilty for taking the path less travelled by, even though it may make all the difference.
'Tis a strange feeling, communing with one's wife and constructively criticising your own parents. And, quite frankly, sometimes not so constructively.
There's a fine balancing act in bringing up children, but I only know boys. I already look at both of my sons and idly envision what sort of men they will become. They will be responsible for choosing their own paths in life, but I am instrumental in girding them for the journey and ensuring that they're wearing the appropriate footwear should they choose a path less travelled. I'll probably sneak some bug spray into their packs when they're not looking.
I know full well that I am a product of my upbringing as much as I am formed by my own conscious choices. Those same choices were ineluctably influenced by that upbringing. From an early age I was raised by a single mother, saw my father every other weekend, shared holidays, and have had two step parents for well over 20 years now. These facts don't begin to speak to the confluence of conflicting emotions brought about by such an environment, catalysed by the presence of a now-precious younger brother who was then in league with the devil.
My own two sons will be a product, in part, of the environment that my wife and I choose to create for them. I want to protect them, but prepare them to look out for themselves; educate them, and instill in them a lifelong desire to learn; love them, and let them go that they may learn to love themselves and so feel free to love others as unconditionally as possible.
When I see a man, most frequently in the mirror, he is a cautious, guarded creature. His more primal instincts induce him to protect himself and so erect his armour, built up from childhood. It takes many forms: outright aggressiveness, ebullience, bluster, workaholism, bravado... my own lifelong reticence to emote has been mine. Express not what you are feeling and it will therefore not be exploited.
Therein lies the tragedy.
The seeds for the armour are sown early and grow deep roots. The vicious predators of tooth and claw and rending steel have been usurped by other, more insidious, but no less vicious competitors. No longer is the flesh targeted so much as the mind and the emotions are sought to be suborned. Or are perceived to be. And as the attack evolves, so does the defence against it. The flesh is left exposed while the bulwarks of the heart and psyche are bolstered.
So I am left with the thought regarding my sons:
How to inculcate in them the requisite strength of character without compromising compassion and empathy? I want to let them know that it's okay to to be emotionally expressive; that's it's okay to hug their mother and kiss their father; that the women who will do well by them will be attracted to this confidence in character and not by a marked and steadfast stoicism. Eventually, I will need them to remind ME of all this.
What sort of men do I want them to be? Yet where do I stop? I don't want to go so far as to try to mold them into 'the man I should have been'.
A fine balance.
I am reminded of a part of the creed from my university fraternity. An organisation, ironically, originally formed as a secret society for mutual protection:
He must be a gentleman,
A man of honour and courage,
A man of zeal, yet humble,
An intelligent man, a man of Truth.
One who tempers action with wisdom and,
Above all else,
One who walks in the Light of God.
What am I going to do about Declan and Tavish? I came out all right at the end (Hell, I'm a catch!), both because of and in spite of my own upbringing. No parent is perfect. But how can I see a grown (and still growing) boy and be able to rest content in having been a good parent?
Where do my own failings lie? Already I sometimes see Declan pouting, on the verge of tears, and he 'manfully' stops it up, quells the bottom lip quivering and puts on a brave frown, brow furrowed, until he has himself composed. There's a part of me that's devastated when I see that, because I'm the cause. And I wasn't even aware of it.
I am going to do the best by my sons as I am able. And I truly do honour my mother and my father. Fully as much for providing an example from which I will consciously swerve as that which I will follow.
Criminy Simony. I mean Simon. You've put a lot of thought and angst into this already. You would do well to keep being you and let the boys learn by example. You've got the integrity down pat. Your love and awe of the boys is apparent (and necessary to instill the confidence they will need.) Your slant on life is infectious, they will benefit from that. Your love for Amy is a great example for them. They already are learning the importance of family and laughter. Yep, just lighten up on the dogs and I think you'll be pleased with how they turn out ;-)
Posted by: Linda | Thursday, 25 May 2006 at 06:02 AM
This was so evocative for me that my response is today's post on my blog...
Posted by: marian | Thursday, 25 May 2006 at 07:46 AM
I wish more parents would stop to think about how they are molding these little ones. Bravo to you Simon. You're a wonderful Dad and will make fine, loving, caring, soft, strong, trustworthy men.
My Uncle has two sons and they are strong, smart, and soft like teddy bears. They are great boys/men. I want that for my son too.
Posted by: TerriTorial | Thursday, 25 May 2006 at 08:51 AM
I'm sure many of these fears dwell in the minds of all parents, but as a dad of a boy, I definitely relate to all these fears.
One thing I also wonder -- is there a point at which I should remove my blog from the Internet, so that Ben cannot read it? Do I want my very young son to see the things I write out here? Hmmmm...
Then, there's this. Will he one day be "too old" for me to blog about him? Do I wait until he comes out and asks me not to write about him? This is a tough one for me.
Posted by: Mark | Thursday, 25 May 2006 at 08:53 AM
Mark, I'm dealing with that whole thing right now. When does my need to tell my story override my son's need for privacy? He doesn't know about my blog yet.
And yes, he will one day be too old for you to be candidly blogging about his life. He will ask you to stop if you haven't already. And this will happen as soon as he gets online and can read, which is, like, right around the corner!
Posted by: marian | Thursday, 25 May 2006 at 10:19 AM
A thoughtful post, Simon, with a unco great poignant photo to accompany it. And I think Linda is spot on- the boys are going to pick up all of this emotional & communications facility from you (and Amy) through absorbtion & osmosis despite any incidental stiff upper-lipping.
Hope the game goes well tonight and you enjoy your victory riot.
Posted by: rick | Thursday, 25 May 2006 at 10:53 AM
The solution to your dilemma is to introduce them to "Ultima IV: Quest of the Avatar", the game that taught me almost everything I needed to know.
The rest I picked up from "Leisure Suit Larry".
Posted by: fv | Thursday, 25 May 2006 at 04:41 PM
Simon, print this essay and put away in a drawer. You'll know when you'll want to give it to your boys. By asking the hard questions, you show that you're already on the right path.
Being true to yourself is the gift you give your sons. All shall be well.
This is a beautiful reflection on parenthood and its awesome responsibility.
Now go enjoy the Oilers!
Posted by: the Mater | Thursday, 25 May 2006 at 07:12 PM
You have such beautiful children. This picture of Declan is too precious. The best words of wisdom that were ever bestowed on me are: "Children will repeat more of what they see than what they hear".
So . . . love your wife, tell the truth, show respect, even the way you honor your parents will show your boys how they should honor you.
Posted by: Chris | Thursday, 25 May 2006 at 08:29 PM
Thoughtful post, Simon. I can definitely relat to your reflections... even to the part about the dogs.
One of the most shocking things to me has always been seeing a child show cruelty to animals (or other people, of course). I've now seen my 3-yr old yelling at our labrador in an astonishingly precise imitation of *me*! It is sobering, and frightening.
Dude, I've got to get a grip on it! I may have to get some therapy to figure out how to deal with my "dog issues" before I turn my kids into dog abusers!
BTW, sorry about the Oilers ... :-(
Posted by: Jim (of Brazil) | Thursday, 25 May 2006 at 10:07 PM
I can relate to the treatment of animals. Not because I yell out our dog, but because Ben will look right at a ladybug, cricket, etc., say what it is, and then stomp on it. Actually, he has not done this in a while, I think because he realized it hurt them, especially after I told him. Hey, I'm not one of these folks who moves a spider outside. I crush it, and then move it to the trash can. So, he might learn the killing from me, but sheesh, give the little bugs a chance in their own territory.
Posted by: Mark | Friday, 26 May 2006 at 12:14 AM
Here's a nice, thoughtful post by Kirala on the same subject:
http://kirala.typepad.com/
Posted by: Suebob | Friday, 26 May 2006 at 11:35 AM
Son, you already have it figured out. "Do the best that you are able by your sons". That is all you can do and what you should do. They will become the men they are destined to be because of it and in spite of it. You and your brother are prime examples of that adage; two very focussed and determined men. Bravo...!
Posted by: Grampa | Friday, 26 May 2006 at 04:06 PM
Great post. They helped me put some of my own parenting thoughts as of late into perspective, and it's nice to know other young parents are thinking too much... I mean... the same things, too. And like you said to me on Mother's Day -- you're doing great!
Posted by: Dixie | Friday, 26 May 2006 at 04:39 PM
Simon ..... Parenting is such a balancing act, isn't it? The unfortunate thing is, hindsight is 20/20. I can NOW see the things I wish I had done differently. The things I wish I would have been more 'interfering' about, and those I should have hung back on. But, in the end, we can only do the best we know how at the time. The great thing is, if you consistently show your kids that you love them through the years, they will overlook alot ! Tina
Posted by: Tina | Sunday, 28 May 2006 at 11:48 PM