THE RETROACTIVE PARENT
PARENTING OPPORTUNITIES MISSED SHOULD NOT BE FORGOTTEN --
LET THEM SERVE AS A WARNING to others.
None of us has the ability to look back on our mistakes as parents because DENIAL is too strong an impulse. There's an unconscious urge to block pain or even memory of blame. Even the sight of a child grown into a disaster of an adult life, suffering real problems, which MIGHT make us sum up our lacks, add up the zeros, remember, confront, take responsibility for our part in their damage, cannot overcome the DENIAL NUMBNESS mechanism. Idiocy is supposedly accidental but these days it is intentional.I'm not saying it was intentional damage, back when it got done. That was YOU YOUNGER, you a tad unconscious. We were off having fun, we didn't want to be with our children, we hired babysitters. But that same, dangerous, shallow butterfly thinking still exists, now. You didn't do physical abuse or emotional damage intentionally. What you did was not a sin of commission. It was a sin of OMISSION. It was a lot of zero sum parenting.
Idiocy is no accident. It has to be carefully planned. Rationales must be constructed. 'Oh, I had to be at the job during baby's infancy.' or "I was spread too thin. I was nervous in the service." Or "I was so bored staying home with the baby all the time. I deserved to get out, I got Maria. Now my child is in daycare. She didn't work out. Hope daycare works for him."
The fact that your child's still alive tells me that you hit some of your parental bases, but the truth is you probably didn't contribute enough of the subtle stuff, bottom line interactions, down where the rubber meets the road. You were off playing, earning money to be a better consumer,not a better parent. You 'phoned in' the job of parenting.
Today the lacks are evident, in how our children turned out -- but DENIAL will make us continue in our NUMB path of NOT KNOWING, not seeing and not feeling. Which is sad as then we can't teach the lesson to others and/or pay it forward as you flopped and it grieves you to even speak of the matter, so you live in denial. Not to bum rap Denial. Denial is practical. After all, the final cherry on the top of this pile of horrors is.... that there is no remedy by the time the real ugliness and suffering begins for a child. We can't reach backwards thorough time, can't wiggle around in time and go back and correct the fact that you and that child hit a point where you fell out of love with each other and where you stopped being an effective educator, as, by then, your kid had simply turned off all the speakers.
You can't reach back retroactively and fix that kind of breech. You can't even remember that there were missing classrooms in infancy and you weren't there to give those classes, not 'present in mind soul and body' all at the same time, and that was the start of the damage. The Zeros, the sins of omission are just as dangerous as sins of commission, (actual abuse.)
A child is like a tiny, wiggly fish that the parent reels in with a firm, invisible filament over two decades of time. You bring it into the safety of the earthly, 'Aquarium' life, full of interesting artistry, focused creativity, exploration of one's own passions and talents, in smooth, safe, sanctioned activities, accomplished the way a Renaissance master trains an apprentice, with regular incremental soul/mind hand trainings or feedings until that child is passionate about his art, didn't ever realized he was force fed the Encyclopaedia of Art and now he is a MASTER and his self sufficiency is guaranteed and it never seemed like work to the kid because he enjoyed it.
But break that line and the little, immature fish swims off on his own way down into the dangerous depths where siren calls beckon from under every clamshell.. Love is the firm tie and knot that delivers a six foot tall infant into civilization's most beautiful beaches, into his parent's way of dreaming and thinking with their more mature, wise abilities. The rituals of love, the shared mealtimes, the Sunday barbecues where his chums come and hang with his family, where he's proud of his parents being the leaders of the tribe. Add to that the frequent mom and kid chats, the sharing, all that stops when the fish breaks off the line. And once those ties are severed, the little fish will go his own way, with his own judgment running him and then, you can't help him. He doesn't allow you into his information circle so there's no way you can trouble shoot for him, foresee, warn or correct trajectory, teach the right lesson at the right moment.
Once ties are broken, kids have gone and made the terrible mistakes, and that rupture between you is old, you cannot reglue the contact points, redo the past or change the future. Your contact is over. Or is it?
If this were the case, and every parent child relationship were as fragile as Sevres porcelain, humanity wouldn't be evolving and we know that it is. Information seepage is occurring, perhaps not from one precise parent to its own, precise child, but laterally, from one horrified, edified, too-late-to-do-it-right parent to a new parent. I feel that there are teachers, verbally skilled enough to transmit the lesson to new parents, and on through them to thousands of others. This process has been speeded up by the internet.
Someone who sits typing at one broadcasting point in cyberspace can carry a message. "BE WARNED, mothers and fathers. Let my experience warn you. I have noted an odd phenomenon in even the best parents called BUTTERFLY RUN AROUND. The Starbucks parents can't be tied to a nursery or garden full of children. They will always be straining at the leash and in denial about their addiction to frivolous running around. There's denial of the sacredness of the baby-raising responsibility, denial of the to-do list for perfect accomplishment.
The new norm should be patient, heart centered absorption
in undertaking of the parental 'to-do' list, the required focus, the required schedule of actual hours chalked up being 24/7, necessary to be an effective parent. Predictably, young parents will stay in denial about the likely repercussions of shoddy parenting and they will justify it with 'worldly obligations.' I gotta work. I gotta do this that and the other instead of just holding the babe in arms, letting it wake and sleep with Mom right there.
The teacher or parent who was not in denial would be a John the Baptist in the wilderness whispering what is sedition in the crazy capitalist world of coffeed up workers, intoning some insanely radical and DULL fundamentalist liturgy: " Let me warn you, a drugged state will take over and convince you that giving TEN PERCENTof your day is enough. Woman's Lib will dare you to waste a fine education by staying at home with some brat who could do just as well with daycare. The pharisees will exhort you to hire a maid, go out in the world, hit your bases, phone in a little tenderness and go home' at bedtime and that's OK. It isn't OK but the voice of the dollar will block your eyesight." I agree with that John the Baptist fundamentalist message. It isn't the least bit crazy or fanatical. STAY HOME with the child until he's in school FULL TIME and at that point, maybe a maid for two hours after school would be indicated, but no real interaction. The maid is there just to make certain the student does homework, when Mom gets home, the fun starts. And make it fun, market, shopping, a drive, the park. However I fear that Americans have blinders and cannot see the frayed split ends of the filament that connects us to our children which must be at l00% strength at all times or the fish gets away.
It takes better focus, more patience, less distractions, less yammering, less eternally siren-calling appetites giving you sensual, compelling, outside-recreational, fun reasons to leave the nursery and be out and abroad 'funning yourselves.' If you're going somewhere, pack a picnic basket, diaperbag and take them along! What they see in the world with you as their lens will help them grow.
This time is short, the time that you are in the trenches, raising an infant, love every second. You may think you're mothering that little baby well enough, you see him in the morning and at bedtime, that's good enough. You are with them on weekends so you fancy you're somewhere in the highest parental, percentile ranks, (you rationalize...when you aren't in those ranks, at all.)
You comfort yourself with the meritorious gradients where you think you stand. Because hey, you have to go out for 8 hours to work. Then you hit the movies or video stores. Then you watch the video, which is an incomprehensible yammer to that infant on the bed beside you where you lie in weary hypnosis watching Bruce Willis drive cars off bridges.
That infant is going at a slower speed, but engraving with much more precision. He understands nothing of the noisy cars shooting off a bridge except maybe cars are tremendously dangerous. Play the best movie ever made, Gone with the Wind and show him Scarlett and Rhett, he doesn't get it. It's just a lot of adults hysterically talking.
But he does understand you when you turn off the movie and play with the hand puppet. And when you say 'gimme food' in a little teddy bear voice, he gets what you mean by PSYCHIC interplay. The baby has a slower than verbal 'catch it all' in his mental glove, slow-brain-osmosis, a form of parent child E.S.P. And the teddy bear leaping mouth down on the wax fruit sells the point. Hunger. Greed. And the teddy bear beating on the other little doll is NOT SHARING, in a condition of JEALOUSY and if your infant has an older sibling, he'll sure get the drift of that drama! And then you Mummy are chastising the bad bear for beating up the beanie doll, instead of both sharing the apple. This he really gets. Your baby gets this drama about sharing, righteousness vs. jealousy from your Teddy beating on the Beanie baby. He's going to chortle insanely to let you know he gets it!
You downsized the drama to the baby's brain size and did it out of rapport, generosity, knowing exactly where he stood on the "GET IT" SCALE. And you did it because you weren't at work, weren't at the Video store and weren't watching some MATRIX or DIE HARD video yourself. You took the time. That required generosity of spirit. That took a Michelangelo Mommy hammering-out-the-statue-from-a lump-of- marble sense of where you were going with this child creation of yours. You knew exactly where the scalpel could cut out the lesson of food hungers, jealousy on the baby's VIDEO PICK LIST of interesting dramas he'd like to see played out.
By a year, the story of Mommy gone, baby all alone, monster coming to eat you up (a comedy of course, because you play it for comedy.) is ready to be dramatized. And so on.
But no parent too engrossed in his own dramas of "oh, there's not enough free time for me, I'm busy all the time, I'm juggling the work of two people." that kind of self-pity....no parent with that load has time to create fun, educational playlets for the tyke in the nursery.
It's easier to get a Mexican maid, (oh great, she's gonna plop baby in front of tele novelas in a foreign language where senoritas with hooters get hot embraces from Tony Banderas lookalikes). Yeah, you really want that for your infant. So that he grows up to hang in Cantinas seeking chesty, black eyed babes for the rest of his life.
Another threat is the fact that it's easy today to get affordable day care. Many corporations will pay for it, wanting the female worker to return to the job after 40 days. As an adult with exact memories of daycare where I was placed around 1944, (at age 3,) I know that there is nothing going on there. Zip Bupkes. The care crew is stranded out on a hasty-mind accelerated coffeed up jabberwock path which the infant cannot understand. The games they play are like dried pellets, with no nutritional value. They may fill you up for a few hours, but there's no memories in them. NO humanity.
Infants are handed crayons and other meaningless tools to keep hands busy. The team keeps the infant brain going just enough so that infants won't howl, weep, shout, cry or make noise that makes an adult's skin crawl but there is no infant sized wit, ethos, soul contact, no message reaching the child's most valuable brain tools, whatsoever.
DAYCARE will prepare a child to be ALL MIND, all efficiency and no soul. Dead to all relationships. Addicted to time passers of sensorial delight. The daycare team is trained to provide sensorial distractions & then to be invisible SHADES walking around efficiently, guiding the mind-absorbing fiddling of fingers. Not one adult team member will ever come into focus on the baby's radar as a feeling entity.
SOULLESS FINGLE FIDDLING and dull uninspiring data like COW, mooo, SHEEP, BAAA Dog woof and cat meow story books. If it's not Momma making a comedy out of animal noises, that is a pathetic path to go down. No wonder we all grow up to crave coffee as that's the only mind meadow we were trained to walk in. Moo and Baaa and Meow just isn't that enthralling.
Compare that dried pelletized kibble information to the average nursery play of even the worst parent on the planet. Two fingers walk like a little soldier and climb the leg and surprise the ribcage of the child, provoking laughter. Mom made a little man walk up my chest and attack me. There's something going on. It's a Bruce Willis movie for recently born brain plasma.
A loving parent in his right mind can come up with a thousand unique finger games, do hours of play with an infant, dreaming up endless dramas with plots like little men, surprise attack, scented flowers from the garden which need to drink water, touch it gently, put it in dish of water. It's drinking. Yum Yum.
Or, let's care for live kittens which need gentleness or their claws come out. (I flea comb my kitties so they would be a safe show-and-tell for an infant. NOTE: the licking and saliva of any small animal, a puppy is more likely to do this, can transfer parasites to the mouth of a child, or by fingers to his mouth. If a kitty licks, wash hands with soap, put the pet in another room and find a stuffed toy.)
The games a parent can come up with are endless, spontaneous, improvised and every drama is tailored for that child's experience list, intellect gradient and favorite interests. And what's more, HEART is in the room. No nursery school team can personalize the tiny finger movies as well. The kibble they offer is dessicated and self-destructs leaving no nutritional trace.
So save yourself $400 a week and do your own childcare. Just one of the two parents, opt out on a 40 hour job week. That's all. Frugalize the meals, entertainment and costly home remodels and raise the tyke yourself. You will truly raise him up to a very high level that way. That is RAISING A KID!
To send him off to educational communes while he's still in his tender, explorative, psychic heart-forming years, (the years that form the really interesting sensitive, yin, RIGHT brain)....is to turn the kid into a human vegetable. Spend the yin years with the baby. Later, the LEFT Yang BRAIN is ready to be filled with info. Then he goes into public school. Age 5. Fine. But realize that that kind of learning is very very dead. It's like polyester KAPOK. They stuff a pillow and make it look big and interesting, but it's just kapok.
The kind of a school where your child can remain half intuitive while still being filled with society's information, hasn't been invented yet. It would take saints as teachers. Saints are rare. You could take l00 rabbis and l00 nuns and priests and stir them up with l00 Montessori teachers and still not get one teacher as good as you could be, with that vital soul connection.... This isn't a petition to HOME SCHOOL. Or maybe it is. Maybe five mothers could share the load of 5 children and not get harassed and frayed nor stunt the curriculem.
But there has to be a better way than paying pro's nuns, rabbis, Montessori practitioners.....I suspect it might involve stages. A mother should volunteer to be at the day cares offered by the professional community.
Mothers are uniquely fitted by their hormones for the high calorie, rich soul play-theatre that infants need, crave and grow strong souls on.
A hormonal mother can spend endless hours in the baby's uniquely simple mind world. When baby naps, she has a sense of being transported to another landscape, the adult world, where she can frolick for a few hours with her adult passtimes, internet, books, returning to Junior world when the tyke awakes. Then back to the perfect junior sized focus.
The young adult female Momma mind is consecrated, committed to returning to the Tyke World with ease, transported by pulsing waves of love for her young. If she's not a junkie or on meth, or overdosing on Colombian bean, she swims those shallow, warm tropical waters of baby-mind with ease, right beside her young charge. She sees the bee crawling on the flower, the baby's awe. 'Ohhhh, watch out. That bug bites!' Touch it and OWIE. OWIE! SUCH A BAD HURTIE." Don't touch. You can watch it. He won't hurt you." Now, a 9 month old baby isn't supposed to understand that dialogue without subtitles, but here's what's weird. HE DOES. He gets from momma's voice and moomm'a mental images, which she is sending, that that critter can sting. Even the amount of pain. And that it isn't fatal. He gets it all. If it were a fatal danger, that would have been indicated. She wouldn't have both their faces that close to the flower with the bee. The butterfly is another story. We worry that we will crush it. That's the only worry. Momma loves the butterfly. The dog's mouth is dirty. he licks his butt. We get that. So many life lessons given at the immaculate level of infancy. Food that fell on the ground? Dirty. Fly went on food. Give it to dog. Give the crust or the fruit to bird. And so on.
IMPORTANT life lessons. Yeah that food was good and tasty but once the fly was there, forget it! At the nursery school, playing with blocks is meaningless. No soulular memories, no intelligence goes with the block pawing, block shifting, block stacking. Yawn. But a nasty dirty fly, OOOOhhh, he goes on poop. He can't go on food but fly wants the food, too. BYE BYE FLY. And now Mom, get out the fly swatter. Beats Stephen KING !
That is about a hundred interesting LIFE-LESSONS every day of his infancy. Of course the new parent, the young adult has a flitty mind and will want to pursue a home career, or talk to the gardener or remodelling contractor or crave to see friends who are totally disinterested in playtime with the baby. So the parent eventually hires baby sitters or maids. R2D2 would be a better choice because servants are generally robotic with infants. And the infants are terrified of the stranger. The parents prefer to shop, get a manicure. Flighty parental mind will lead you to abandon infants to inferior care. Nature hoped for a soulular, intense passion for baby's future to override the fitful whim mind. Nature hoped your heart was a shrine with a candle eternally burning and you would view your child as sacred. A project worth investing in.
Only a sense of sacred worship in a nursery where a child is being raised could embue the parent with the passionate dynamic of interest, cherishing, focus, to make the infant very aware. That child is already registering. His first moments of life are profound, the little finger dramas on his leg are stimulating, meaningful as he is in a state of grokking that parent, (Sci-fi author Robert Heinlin's term for beyond love, mixed with great understanding and E.S.P) enabling the baby to fully perceive the goodness of that adoring parent.The depths of love given to children or which we are capable of getting back from them are both unknown to adults. Without love there's no hope to reel in the little fish over a 20 year span, no hope to keep that depth of soul love alive thru infancy, toddlerhood, kidlife, then the terrible teens. If the light goes out, all hope goes out the door. The kid becmes judgemental, irritated by the parent, and irritated with his own children.
That kid will head into the swamp of maya, automatic cash-wasting, high spending, sensual pursuits, emotional insanity and ultimately, metal fatigue from debt and they will become unsuitable parents themselves, encharging the care of infants to others. Working the money side of the street convinced they're the tycoons of tomorrow when they're raising the next generation of dysfunctional, alienated bad parents.
A child only gets the heart message through your non verbal psychic mind. You lead the tyke's wee brain to unsuspected depths of real knowledge through the games of infancy, toddler hood. The kitty, its licking dirty tongue, its claws are one lesson. This toy music maker, this cymbal cracking monkey, stuck doing the automatic, hour after hour. Pity him. Bang bang. Then show him the Rolling Stones. Pity that guy. He tours 50 weeks a year and is a millionaire with a Ferrari and three ex wives. Show baby the flower, take a fake bee, show him the stamen, pistil, the pollen that the bee dribbles on the flower. Show him the fruit. You'd need a fake bee and a real tree to do this but hey, you've got time now to work the garden as you are staying at home with the baby. His cradle is in the shade. His hammock swings.
How can you do that if you're counting minutes, hours, measuring them in dollars? How can you accomplish these mini miracles if you're being automatic or perfunctory? If you're all dried pellets in your own heart, how can you show glints of love and awe for the kitten who we love though they are evil tempered animals with claws. Or love the rose and still warn of the thorn. You are imparting knowledge lessons, Survival skills. But with shared laughter and awe at the kitten playing with its rolling ball.
You create a stimulating, colorful, surprising environment and you share its endless delights with the baby, you, an ardent tutor, will be inspired and heart-guided to see the next learning opportunity. This papaya, this lemon, washed, scooped, honeyed, squeeze the lemon all over it, pick out the seeds and now served with a spoon. AMBROSIA lessons.
Stay with the baby while he explores whatever you have in your stage setting. Compare this to the joys of a shoe sale at Saks or Macy's, yeah, it's a total bore if you're a robot on too much coffee. In a world where Starbucks is jazzing up the YANG BRAIN hourly, kids are gonna BORE YOU. Your children will grow up empty and like you, seeking to be diddled by consumerism, endless aquiring junk or jazzed only by the electric hand of mind toys.
You stand at a crossroads. Your decision of direction, (daycare or one parent at home, PUBLIC SCHOOL, PRIVATE or homeschooling,) are everything. Your choice of how you allow your own brain and heart to function (stoned on coffee, legal meth, or in your six senses....) are the mode of travel you choose. Whether you'll fly on wings of COLOMBIAN BEAN and drag baby over a primitive stony road of plastic objects at a daycare with a coffee-d up team of workers present or carry his fancy on floating angel feathers of soul, wit and learning that develops his highest mental abilities. Mom or Dad, not a Latina maid. These are choices.
The gear you choose to move in and the direction and the team you choose to raise your baby are the relevant decisions. Times a million they define a culture as worthy or shoddy. Times a billion over years, they define the survival of the human as a sentient, joyous, creative angel on earth or a violent, abusive murdering devil.
You are a little angel because I am a big angelSHOULD WE WORRY? Time is gentle. She makes no demands of us. She is patient. She will wait.
The First Human Being hasn't been born yet."America is the only country that went from barbarism to decadence without civilization in between." Oscar Wilde
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