Anthony Wolf writes a column about why it's not fair for a custodial parent to remarry against their kid's will.
I agree with his thesis, but I think it could be explained better, so I made an analogy:
Imagine your daughter is a few years older and has gone off to university. She lives in apartment-style student housing, sharing a two-bedroom suite with another girl. Partway through the year, the other girl decides to move her boyfriend into the suite. Your daughter objects, saying she hardly knows this guy and doesn't want to share her home with a guy she hardly knows. She doesn't want a third person on the shower schedule. She doesn't want a strange man she didn't even choose herself into what has so far been female-only space. She doesn't feel comfortable with him seeing her bras hanging up to dry or her used pads in the bathroom garbage can. She doesn't want to bump into him when she gets up to pee in the middle of the night, or lose the ability to sit in the living room in her jammies and watch movies.
But her roommate insists. "You don't get to control my life," she says, "Aren't I entitled to some happiness?" So she moves in the boyfriend. There's now a man your daughter didn't choose living in her home against her will. That's not fair to your daughter, now is it?
It's equally unfair for you to move in your man against her will. "But I love him!" Yes, and your daughter's roommate loves her man. That still doesn't make it fair to your daughter.
At this point, many parents will say "But I'm the adult, I'm supporting her, I'm paying for the house." Yes, and that makes it even more unfair, because your daughter can't move out of your home. She's completely trapped. Plus, because your man is an adult and your daughter is a minor, he technically has parental authority over her. So think back to the roommate situation, and imagine your daughter's roommate is also her landlord, and when the boyfriend moves in he'll become her landlord too, and she has signed a lease that they won't allow her to break. That's not fair at all, is it? If that were an actual landlord/tenant situation, she might actually be able to take them to court!
So if a member of the household objects to bringing a new member into the household (especially when the current household member is a 14-year-old girl in a female-only household, and the prospective new member is a strange man), do them the decency of waiting until they're in a position to leave if they choose. Four years isn't too long to wait.
(As an aside: Personally, I can't imagine four years being too long to wait to get married in a case like this where you have an extremely good reason to wait. You still have the person in your life, they're still there for you, you just can't share a household quite yet. You've found the love of your life! A four-year wait is small potatoes, especially when you can still see them and talk to them every day.
Time goes faster when you get older. While I'm technically old enough to be the mother of a 14-year-old, given social norms the lady in the column is probably somewhat older than me, so four years would seem like even less time to her. I seriously cannot put myself in that mental place of not being willing to wait.)
Showing posts with label parents and kids. Show all posts
Showing posts with label parents and kids. Show all posts
Monday, March 08, 2010
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Parenting FAIL
In the mall, there's a big gorgeous doggie (kind of weimaranerish) tied to a railing, presumably while his humans stepped into a store. A couple pushing a toddler in a stroller comes up, squees at the doggie, and stops to pet it. But they park the stroller off to the side, as though it's an unimportant shopping cart, and don't involve the kid in the doggie interaction at all!
Aren't you supposed to show interesting animals to your small child whenever the opportunity presents itself? Shouldn't you be saying to your kid "LOOK! It's a DOGGIE! Look at the DOGGIE!" and taking him out of the stroller to interact with the doggie under your careful supervision? Even if you don't want to have your kid pet the dog since the dog is taller than your kid and the dog's humans aren't around, shouldn't you turn the stroller so your kid can watch and learn from the doggie interaction rather than turning him towards the wall?
Aren't you supposed to show interesting animals to your small child whenever the opportunity presents itself? Shouldn't you be saying to your kid "LOOK! It's a DOGGIE! Look at the DOGGIE!" and taking him out of the stroller to interact with the doggie under your careful supervision? Even if you don't want to have your kid pet the dog since the dog is taller than your kid and the dog's humans aren't around, shouldn't you turn the stroller so your kid can watch and learn from the doggie interaction rather than turning him towards the wall?
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Parental forgetfulness run amok
I've blogged before about the concept that I call parental forgetfulness, where the instant people reproduce they seem to lose the ability to identify with children or to recall first-person memories of how they thought and felt as children.
But this is the worst example I have ever seen.
The author knows exactly what these people turned out like, she's talking to them as adults, they're her friends. And they're giving her first-person memories of what their parents did and how that made them think and feel. Information straight from the source, from right inside the former child's head complete with the big picture of how they turned out as an adult and whatever drama they might have gone through in between. And the disregards all this and goes to their mothers, who can describe the empirically observable outcomes but can't tell what was going on inside the kid's head.
Sometimes I wonder which is cause and which is effect. Do people forget what it's like to be a child when they have children of their own? Or do people who remember what it's like to be a child choose not to have children of their own?
But this is the worst example I have ever seen.
Like every distressed woman, I did what came naturally. I called my friends. "You wear high heels and makeup," said one, a psychiatrist and mother. "You are clearly not opposed to feminine things."
"I went through that when I was a kid; I turned out okay," a Bay St. lawyer said.
"Just don't tell her it's bad," advised senior bureaucrat mom. "People always emphasize boy things as good and girl things as bad."
Partway through the frantic dialling, I realized I'd hired the wrong advisers. Who knows what their kids will grow up like? I needed to speak to their mothers. Their parenting decisions have paid off. They raised strong, independent, successful women, despite Disney's insipid infiltration.
The author knows exactly what these people turned out like, she's talking to them as adults, they're her friends. And they're giving her first-person memories of what their parents did and how that made them think and feel. Information straight from the source, from right inside the former child's head complete with the big picture of how they turned out as an adult and whatever drama they might have gone through in between. And the disregards all this and goes to their mothers, who can describe the empirically observable outcomes but can't tell what was going on inside the kid's head.
Sometimes I wonder which is cause and which is effect. Do people forget what it's like to be a child when they have children of their own? Or do people who remember what it's like to be a child choose not to have children of their own?
Saturday, October 24, 2009
"The older you get, the smarter your parents get": two possible perspectives
I've been very frustrated with my elders lately, because they aren't being smarter than me in the ways I need them to be. I'm not talking professional knowledge or knowledge specific to certain hobbies and interests, I'm talking life knowledge and skills that you absorb or figure out just by living life. How to remove a stain. How to invest your money. How to answer the "Tell me about a time when you had a conflict in your workplace" job interview question when you haven't actually had a conflict in your workplace. I keep finding my elders know no more than I do in these areas, and sometimes are two steps behind me. It's very frustrating, and also utterly baffling. I came into the world in 1980 knowing literally nothing. Since then, I've had to learn how to walk and talk and eat and read and socialize and balance my bank account. And during this time, I also developed a certain amount of expertise in stain removal and investing and job interviewing. But my elders, who had already figured out how to do all the walking/talking/bank account stuff long before 1980 and have been removing stains/investing/job interviewing since well before 1980, don't seem to know anything more than I do.
So my first theory is that they have some huge amount of extra knowledge in areas that I can't even see, can't even begin to imagine. So I was wishing that there was some way to tell how much of a person's knowledge you aren't seeing. In the Sims, if a person has five personality traits but you only know three of them, you can see that there are two other traits you don't know. I was thinking it would be so helpful if we could see something similar for people we're talking to in real life. I don't know if it's the same for everyone, but when I talk to someone I tend to get the impression that what I'm getting from them is representative of the whole person. It would be far easier to respect an elder who tells me "wash your clothes inside out" as though that were panacea, as though I haven't already been doing that for a decade, if I knew that I was only seeing 10% of what they have to offer, rather than thinking they had lived for decades and decades and the best they have to offer is that I should wash my clothes inside out.
In a fit of frustration, I tweeted that I've learned more from my elders about what not to do than about what to do. But that ultimately led to my second theory: our elders don't actually have decades of experience on us, because in living alongside them and observing them we're constantly absorbing the lessons they've learned from their decades of experience. I'm not even talking about stuff our elders try to deliberately teach us, I'm talking about lessons that they learn when we're kids - we learn right along with them.
For example, both of my grandmothers are still living in their own homes, but they need their kids to drive them places and help with stuff around the house. I look at that and think that's not what I want my golden years to be like (especially since I won't have kids), so I've already altered my life accordingly by choosing to live in a highrise in a high-density, walkable neighbourhood. My parents were constantly painting and fixing up their house, and I hated it. The smell, the mess, the instability...so because of that, I'm never going to buy a fixer-upper or go charging starry-eyed into a DIY redecorating project only to end up weeping on the floor of a half-ruined room. My parents also took us on a lot of trips, and I hated it. Close quarters, carsickness, lack of control over food and accommodations, and I simply don't get any pleasure out of sightseeing or being on a beach or whatever. So because of this, I'm never going to waste thousands of dollars and a year's worth of vacation time and ruin a relationship on some idealized "OMG, travelling = sexy!"
But I think part of the problem is that our elders think that we're in the same place they were when they were our age. I'm pretty sure at least one of my grandmothers thinks I don't realize that, in being childfree, I won't have any kids to take care of me when I'm old. I'm pretty sure she and her husband bought their house when they were in their 20s without giving any thought to what life will be like at 80 so she assumes I'm doing the same, whereas in real life I learned about the long-term unsuitability of car-dependent housing at the same time that she did.
Analogy: Our elders are like pure mathematical theorists coming up with new proofs and equations. We're the math students decades later casually using those proofs and equations in our applied math textbooks. I certainly could never come up with a way to calculate or prove derivatives, and I promptly forgot the long-form equation as soon as we started learning the product rule and the quotient rule. But I can still use derivatives in physics for velocity and acceleration, etc. Unfortunately, a lot of my physics work is being discounted because the senior academics think my theories on velocity and acceleration are worthless because when they were my age they didn't have a way to calculate derivatives.
So my first theory is that they have some huge amount of extra knowledge in areas that I can't even see, can't even begin to imagine. So I was wishing that there was some way to tell how much of a person's knowledge you aren't seeing. In the Sims, if a person has five personality traits but you only know three of them, you can see that there are two other traits you don't know. I was thinking it would be so helpful if we could see something similar for people we're talking to in real life. I don't know if it's the same for everyone, but when I talk to someone I tend to get the impression that what I'm getting from them is representative of the whole person. It would be far easier to respect an elder who tells me "wash your clothes inside out" as though that were panacea, as though I haven't already been doing that for a decade, if I knew that I was only seeing 10% of what they have to offer, rather than thinking they had lived for decades and decades and the best they have to offer is that I should wash my clothes inside out.
In a fit of frustration, I tweeted that I've learned more from my elders about what not to do than about what to do. But that ultimately led to my second theory: our elders don't actually have decades of experience on us, because in living alongside them and observing them we're constantly absorbing the lessons they've learned from their decades of experience. I'm not even talking about stuff our elders try to deliberately teach us, I'm talking about lessons that they learn when we're kids - we learn right along with them.
For example, both of my grandmothers are still living in their own homes, but they need their kids to drive them places and help with stuff around the house. I look at that and think that's not what I want my golden years to be like (especially since I won't have kids), so I've already altered my life accordingly by choosing to live in a highrise in a high-density, walkable neighbourhood. My parents were constantly painting and fixing up their house, and I hated it. The smell, the mess, the instability...so because of that, I'm never going to buy a fixer-upper or go charging starry-eyed into a DIY redecorating project only to end up weeping on the floor of a half-ruined room. My parents also took us on a lot of trips, and I hated it. Close quarters, carsickness, lack of control over food and accommodations, and I simply don't get any pleasure out of sightseeing or being on a beach or whatever. So because of this, I'm never going to waste thousands of dollars and a year's worth of vacation time and ruin a relationship on some idealized "OMG, travelling = sexy!"
But I think part of the problem is that our elders think that we're in the same place they were when they were our age. I'm pretty sure at least one of my grandmothers thinks I don't realize that, in being childfree, I won't have any kids to take care of me when I'm old. I'm pretty sure she and her husband bought their house when they were in their 20s without giving any thought to what life will be like at 80 so she assumes I'm doing the same, whereas in real life I learned about the long-term unsuitability of car-dependent housing at the same time that she did.
Analogy: Our elders are like pure mathematical theorists coming up with new proofs and equations. We're the math students decades later casually using those proofs and equations in our applied math textbooks. I certainly could never come up with a way to calculate or prove derivatives, and I promptly forgot the long-form equation as soon as we started learning the product rule and the quotient rule. But I can still use derivatives in physics for velocity and acceleration, etc. Unfortunately, a lot of my physics work is being discounted because the senior academics think my theories on velocity and acceleration are worthless because when they were my age they didn't have a way to calculate derivatives.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
When, why, and how did classroom learning start being unsuitable for boys?
I've heard it mentioned as a given quite a few times in quite a number of places (examples off the top of my head: this and this) that boys are ill-served by the traditional classroom model of school. Apparently they find it way harder than girls to sit down, sit still, listen, pay attention, read, write, buckle down and do their work, etc.
But there's a great big neon blinking question mark here that I haven't seen addressed or even mentioned anywhere: the traditional classroom model, complete with sitting, listening, paying attention, and diligently doing work, dates back to when school was for boys only. Off the top of my head and limiting myself only to Anglo-Saxon culture (because that's the only one I have pertinent information from off the top of my head), I know that the traditional classroom model was around in the UK in the middle ages, because the Catholic church used it (at Oxford and elsewhere) to train boys up to be priests.
So when did this model, which was originally conceived for a male-only context, become unsuitable for boys? Why and how did this happen? If someone could figure this out, maybe we could address it or undo it.
But there's a great big neon blinking question mark here that I haven't seen addressed or even mentioned anywhere: the traditional classroom model, complete with sitting, listening, paying attention, and diligently doing work, dates back to when school was for boys only. Off the top of my head and limiting myself only to Anglo-Saxon culture (because that's the only one I have pertinent information from off the top of my head), I know that the traditional classroom model was around in the UK in the middle ages, because the Catholic church used it (at Oxford and elsewhere) to train boys up to be priests.
So when did this model, which was originally conceived for a male-only context, become unsuitable for boys? Why and how did this happen? If someone could figure this out, maybe we could address it or undo it.
Friday, August 28, 2009
Wherein the catholic school boards solve a 40-year-old problem
Apparently some of the catholic school boards are eliminating the uniform kilt because students are wearing them too short.
I think this is hilarious, because my mother wore her uniform kilt too short when she was in high school, back in the 1960s. It's actually my mother who (inadvertently) taught me how to roll a kilt so your hemline is high but you can readily lower it when there are teachers around. I never went to a school that had uniforms, but I still know the technique.
If my mother had chosen to start her family in her early 20s, and then I had chosen to start a family in my early 20s, my mother could easily be the grandmother of one of the high school students who's now seeing kilts banned from their wardrobe because people are wearing them too short. Imagine that! "But my grandmother got to do it!"
I think this is hilarious, because my mother wore her uniform kilt too short when she was in high school, back in the 1960s. It's actually my mother who (inadvertently) taught me how to roll a kilt so your hemline is high but you can readily lower it when there are teachers around. I never went to a school that had uniforms, but I still know the technique.
If my mother had chosen to start her family in her early 20s, and then I had chosen to start a family in my early 20s, my mother could easily be the grandmother of one of the high school students who's now seeing kilts banned from their wardrobe because people are wearing them too short. Imagine that! "But my grandmother got to do it!"
Friday, July 24, 2009
Things They Should Study: is there a correlation between childhood stuffed animals and materialism?
When I was in Grade 5, our teacher played John Lennon's Imagine for us. I listened to the song, following along the lyrics sheet, briefly scandalized by the use of the word "hell" but agreeing wholeheartedly with the sentiment. Until we got to the line "Imagine no possessions." Then I was scared: this man obviously wanted to take Smurfy away!
Smurfy is, as you might have guessed, a toy smurf. He has been with me my whole life, and for a good chunk of my life was my best friend - for a few dark years, my only friend. When the world gets too scary, Smurfy is there. After a long day being tormented by my bullies, I'd go to my room, cuddle up with Smurfy, and all would be right with the world. I still have him, and to this day there is a certain shade of comfort that only he can bring.
I'm sure only the most cold-hearted curmudgeon would characterize my relationship with Smurfy as materialistic. And yet, he is, strictly speaking, an object, a material possession, that I am emotionally attached to. The rest of my possessions I like for their function, perhaps combined with their aesthetics. With the exception of a few difficult-to-fit-and-discontinued pieces of clothing, I could do without them or replace them without blinking an eye. But Smurfy I need, and another stuffed animal can't do the job nearly as well. The emotional attachment to an object is there, developed at a very early age.
I know John Lennon didn't really want to take my Smurfy away. I know most people wouldn't characterize a child clutching a stuffed animal as materialistic. I know that whether people characterize me as materialistic will vary according to how much they like me and what point they're trying to prove. And I'm not suggesting or even hinting that parents should deny their children stuffed animals so they don't become materialistic - I would never deny another child the comfort that Smurfy has brought me.
But I can't help but wonder, does this emotional attachment to an object early on lead to materialism later in life? Or, conversely, does it reduce materialism because ordinary consumer goods will never be your best friend like that one stuffed animal is?
Smurfy is, as you might have guessed, a toy smurf. He has been with me my whole life, and for a good chunk of my life was my best friend - for a few dark years, my only friend. When the world gets too scary, Smurfy is there. After a long day being tormented by my bullies, I'd go to my room, cuddle up with Smurfy, and all would be right with the world. I still have him, and to this day there is a certain shade of comfort that only he can bring.
I'm sure only the most cold-hearted curmudgeon would characterize my relationship with Smurfy as materialistic. And yet, he is, strictly speaking, an object, a material possession, that I am emotionally attached to. The rest of my possessions I like for their function, perhaps combined with their aesthetics. With the exception of a few difficult-to-fit-and-discontinued pieces of clothing, I could do without them or replace them without blinking an eye. But Smurfy I need, and another stuffed animal can't do the job nearly as well. The emotional attachment to an object is there, developed at a very early age.
I know John Lennon didn't really want to take my Smurfy away. I know most people wouldn't characterize a child clutching a stuffed animal as materialistic. I know that whether people characterize me as materialistic will vary according to how much they like me and what point they're trying to prove. And I'm not suggesting or even hinting that parents should deny their children stuffed animals so they don't become materialistic - I would never deny another child the comfort that Smurfy has brought me.
But I can't help but wonder, does this emotional attachment to an object early on lead to materialism later in life? Or, conversely, does it reduce materialism because ordinary consumer goods will never be your best friend like that one stuffed animal is?
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Things They Should Study: why are there monsters under the bed and how did they get there?
When I was little, my furniture turned into monsters at night. Sure, it sat very very still, but I knew it was a monster and I knew it was going to get me. The cabinet in the downstairs bathroom also turned into a monster if I blurred my eyes a certain way, and ALL the furniture in my baby sister's room (where my parents would sometimes send me as a punishment because there were no interesting toys in there, unlike my room) was turned into monsters at all times, even during the day. (No, I never questioned why the baby was kept in a room with monsters. I was too young to see a baby as something that needed protecting.) When I started elementary school there was no respite from the monsters. Some of the toilets had monsters in them, and this wisdom was carefully handed down over the years. I'll bet you anything that if you asked a current student at my former elementary school which toilet the toilet monster lives in, she'll say the last one on the right-hand side.
When you're a kid, there are monsters everywhere. Under the bed, in the closet, we know this. When you were reading me describe my childhood monsters, you probably weren't thinking I was a completely delusional loony. You probably know that they aren't there now because I'm a grown-up, but there were very much real when I was a child. Sure, they didn't actually get me and I never actually saw them move, but they were real.
But why do children have monsters? How did this come about? Is it cultural or evolutionary? Do all children in all cultures have monsters? If so, what evolutionary purpose does it serve? If not all cultures have monsters, which ones don't and why not? Why do we have them?
Life should be scarier now than it was when I was a child. I know, in more specific detail than I've ever wanted to, about things like torture, rape, and war crimes. If there's a phobia trigger, no one is going to rescue me. My grownups can't solve all my problems - in fact, we're getting frighteningly close to the point where they can't solve any problems that I can't already solve for myself. I'm well aware that my financial resources are finite and competence and hard work aren't enough to earn a living. The number of people in the world who actively want me to be safe is so small I could probably type up a list of names, and the number of people in the world who directly or indirectly want to do harm to me seems to be bigger every time I turn around.
But I don't have any monsters, and generally live in less fear that I did back when my dresser turned into a monster. So why did we have that omnipresent but nonspecific fear back when we were kids, and why do very real and specific fears seem to chase it away?
When you're a kid, there are monsters everywhere. Under the bed, in the closet, we know this. When you were reading me describe my childhood monsters, you probably weren't thinking I was a completely delusional loony. You probably know that they aren't there now because I'm a grown-up, but there were very much real when I was a child. Sure, they didn't actually get me and I never actually saw them move, but they were real.
But why do children have monsters? How did this come about? Is it cultural or evolutionary? Do all children in all cultures have monsters? If so, what evolutionary purpose does it serve? If not all cultures have monsters, which ones don't and why not? Why do we have them?
Life should be scarier now than it was when I was a child. I know, in more specific detail than I've ever wanted to, about things like torture, rape, and war crimes. If there's a phobia trigger, no one is going to rescue me. My grownups can't solve all my problems - in fact, we're getting frighteningly close to the point where they can't solve any problems that I can't already solve for myself. I'm well aware that my financial resources are finite and competence and hard work aren't enough to earn a living. The number of people in the world who actively want me to be safe is so small I could probably type up a list of names, and the number of people in the world who directly or indirectly want to do harm to me seems to be bigger every time I turn around.
But I don't have any monsters, and generally live in less fear that I did back when my dresser turned into a monster. So why did we have that omnipresent but nonspecific fear back when we were kids, and why do very real and specific fears seem to chase it away?
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Why children are obsessed with candy
I was trying to remember something that happened when I was very young. I thought back and retrieved the memory of walking around with my grandmother in her neighbourhood and she was telling me about the thing I was trying to remember. Like most memories, this one contained some tiny details. My grandmother was still taller than me at the time. It was one of the first spring days that year when I didn't have to wear a jacket. I could see the water from the top of this one hill. And I was thinking about wintergreen lifesavers - either my grandmother had just bought me some, or I was hoping to convince her to buy me some.
Then I realized: I was thinking about lifesavers, like extensively! I was so fixated on the idea of getting lifesavers that it's coming out as an underlying emotion in the memory 20 years later! As adults, if we want lifesavers we just buy some without a second thought. But kids can't just go and buy lifesavers. They don't have money, and if they do have money they still need permission from a grownup to go to a store, and then the grownup is there to approve or veto their purchase. So that leaves my child-self there absolutely obsessed with convincing her grandmother to buy her lifesavers (Should I ask outright? Should I play coy?) and/or the fact that her grandmother has just bought her lifesavers (Should I eat them all now? Should I save some? What will my parents think?). It wasn't something over which I had any control and I was entirely at the mercy of the grownups buying lifesavers for me and permitting me to have lifesavers, so it became this idee fixe.
And my grownups had never actually been unreasonable about my having candy! Looking at it from an adult perspective, my grandmother would totally have bought them for me if I'd asked, and it might have made her a bit happy to buy me a treat that makes me happy. And my parents wouldn't have taken away a treat that my grandmother bought me, and might have even come up with the idea of testing the theory that they make sparks if you bite them. But because I couldn't just go get them myself, because it was logistically necessary to ask for and receive permission to have lifesavers, they became this Great Big Thing in my mind.
So maybe if all kids has $5 in their pocket and a corner store that they could walk to themselves, they'd stop obsessing with candy (after an initial burst of enthusiasm).
Then I realized: I was thinking about lifesavers, like extensively! I was so fixated on the idea of getting lifesavers that it's coming out as an underlying emotion in the memory 20 years later! As adults, if we want lifesavers we just buy some without a second thought. But kids can't just go and buy lifesavers. They don't have money, and if they do have money they still need permission from a grownup to go to a store, and then the grownup is there to approve or veto their purchase. So that leaves my child-self there absolutely obsessed with convincing her grandmother to buy her lifesavers (Should I ask outright? Should I play coy?) and/or the fact that her grandmother has just bought her lifesavers (Should I eat them all now? Should I save some? What will my parents think?). It wasn't something over which I had any control and I was entirely at the mercy of the grownups buying lifesavers for me and permitting me to have lifesavers, so it became this idee fixe.
And my grownups had never actually been unreasonable about my having candy! Looking at it from an adult perspective, my grandmother would totally have bought them for me if I'd asked, and it might have made her a bit happy to buy me a treat that makes me happy. And my parents wouldn't have taken away a treat that my grandmother bought me, and might have even come up with the idea of testing the theory that they make sparks if you bite them. But because I couldn't just go get them myself, because it was logistically necessary to ask for and receive permission to have lifesavers, they became this Great Big Thing in my mind.
So maybe if all kids has $5 in their pocket and a corner store that they could walk to themselves, they'd stop obsessing with candy (after an initial burst of enthusiasm).
Sunday, June 14, 2009
Sign of recession?
I've noticed that this year an awful lot of father's day cards are about the stereotype that kids hit up their parents for money. Like it's always been there, but the proportion is way greater this year.
Unfortunately that's completely useless to me. I'm nearly 30, I don't go to my parents for money. And if something went horribly wrong and I did have to go to them for money, I'd be too ashamed of it to joke about it.
Actually, now that I think about it, a lot of the child-to-parent sentiments on greeting cards become less applicable as you get older. (At least on the so-called "funny" cards - I don't go in for the mushy ones.) Most of them are things that are applicable when all parties are sharing a household or when the parents are trying to raise children to adulthood. I can probably still get away with cards like that now, but it's going to be ridiculous 10 years from now. But I'm not seeing anything humourous that applies to child-parent relationships where both parties are adults in separate households. Do they think we all get mushy as we get older? Do they think today's elders lack a sense of humour?
Hopefully the greeting card industry will evolve in that direction. There used to be zero humourous cards that were suitable to send to a grandmother from an adult grandchild, and now there are a few. Hopefully cards for parents will follow suit.
Unfortunately that's completely useless to me. I'm nearly 30, I don't go to my parents for money. And if something went horribly wrong and I did have to go to them for money, I'd be too ashamed of it to joke about it.
Actually, now that I think about it, a lot of the child-to-parent sentiments on greeting cards become less applicable as you get older. (At least on the so-called "funny" cards - I don't go in for the mushy ones.) Most of them are things that are applicable when all parties are sharing a household or when the parents are trying to raise children to adulthood. I can probably still get away with cards like that now, but it's going to be ridiculous 10 years from now. But I'm not seeing anything humourous that applies to child-parent relationships where both parties are adults in separate households. Do they think we all get mushy as we get older? Do they think today's elders lack a sense of humour?
Hopefully the greeting card industry will evolve in that direction. There used to be zero humourous cards that were suitable to send to a grandmother from an adult grandchild, and now there are a few. Hopefully cards for parents will follow suit.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Bad logic from Annie's Mailbox
Annie's mailbox response to a parent whose son's girlfriend doesn't have a curfew:
Yeah yeah yeah, I know that's the conventional wisdom. But think back, in first person, to your own adolescence. Think about the first time you, personally, didn't have a curfew, or it wasn't enforceable, or it was otherwise feasible for you to stay out however long you wanted.
Did you feel insecure? Did you feel like your parents didn't care about you?
I don't know about you, but I felt pretty much neutral about the whole thing. I didn't even feel anything strong enough to say I felt liberated. It was just "Finally I can let the evening's activities take their natural course without having to be home at some completely arbitrary time." Since then I have once in a while felt a glimmer of liberation, just like how I sometimes revel in the fact that I can sleep until noon and eat junk food for breakfast and no one will stop me, but overall it was a small sigh of relief that life was now more reasonable.
Actually, if anything made me feel insecure or that my parents didn't care about me, it was arbitrary rules. Arbitrary rules made me feel like my parents didn't care about me, personally, as an individual, with my own personal needs. It made me feel like they were trying to parent an archetype or a stereotype, or trying to pat themselves on the back for being such good parents. "You can't go to that boy's house unless his parents are there. Look at us, we are such good parents, much better than the parents who let their daughters go to boys' houses unsupervised." As it happens, they didn't have to worry about the boy. I couldn't even get him to kiss me. However, I didn't feel comfortable around his father and wasn't about to go to his house if the father was there. How could I feel secure and cared about with rules like that?
You might consider raising his weekday curfew by one hour as long as it doesn't affect his school performance, but giving him unlimited freedom is actually likely to create some insecurities. We feel sorry for Holly, whose parents give the impression they don't care about their daughter.
Yeah yeah yeah, I know that's the conventional wisdom. But think back, in first person, to your own adolescence. Think about the first time you, personally, didn't have a curfew, or it wasn't enforceable, or it was otherwise feasible for you to stay out however long you wanted.
Did you feel insecure? Did you feel like your parents didn't care about you?
I don't know about you, but I felt pretty much neutral about the whole thing. I didn't even feel anything strong enough to say I felt liberated. It was just "Finally I can let the evening's activities take their natural course without having to be home at some completely arbitrary time." Since then I have once in a while felt a glimmer of liberation, just like how I sometimes revel in the fact that I can sleep until noon and eat junk food for breakfast and no one will stop me, but overall it was a small sigh of relief that life was now more reasonable.
Actually, if anything made me feel insecure or that my parents didn't care about me, it was arbitrary rules. Arbitrary rules made me feel like my parents didn't care about me, personally, as an individual, with my own personal needs. It made me feel like they were trying to parent an archetype or a stereotype, or trying to pat themselves on the back for being such good parents. "You can't go to that boy's house unless his parents are there. Look at us, we are such good parents, much better than the parents who let their daughters go to boys' houses unsupervised." As it happens, they didn't have to worry about the boy. I couldn't even get him to kiss me. However, I didn't feel comfortable around his father and wasn't about to go to his house if the father was there. How could I feel secure and cared about with rules like that?
Tuesday, May 05, 2009
Open Letter to "Need Help" in today's Dear Ellie column
From today's Dear Ellie:
First of all, broach the subject with your husband by talking about funeral planning/wishes for after death in general. Do your own wills and plan your own funerals if you haven't already. Bring up Baby Kaylee who was recently in the news to steer the conversation towards organ donation. Then once you're on that, ponder whether you know your own parents' wishes (aging parents, you know) and ask your husband if he knows his mother's wishes.
Then your husband can use the same technique to find out his mother's wishes.
Allow some time to pass and price her wishes to find out whether you can afford them. Then, at a calm and neutral moment, have your husband say to her "BTW, Mom, remember a while back you said you wanted to be buried in a solid gold tomb? Today I just happened to stumble upon how much that costs and there's no way I can make that work. Do you have insurance or pre-planning or anything?"
At this point she should either agree to insurance or take responsibility for pre-planning. And if she doesn't, she has been duly informed that her wishes cannot be fulfilled without some action on her part, so you're off the hook for not doing more than you can afford.
I've been married for three years and am increasingly frustrated with my mother-in-law.
She has a gambling problem and often cannot pay her rent, or her basic bills. She has major health problems, yet smokes and is extremely overweight.
My husband and I help her financially when she needs it, but it's more difficult for us lately. I'd like to arrange an insurance policy for her, to help with the cost of her funeral expenses should she pass away. I feel that due to her careless lifestyle and health problems, she may not be around very long.
No other relatives are in a secure financial position to assist with final expenses. Or they'll refuse, since we're always bailing her out.
How do I bring this up to my husband? How do we talk to my mother-in-law about signing a policy for funeral coverage?
I cannot take one out on her without her knowledge. I feel my husband should be the one to talk to her. When I've mentioned this before, he got very angry and didn't want to discuss it. I'm just trying to avoid a disaster, not looking to make any money off her.
Need Help
First of all, broach the subject with your husband by talking about funeral planning/wishes for after death in general. Do your own wills and plan your own funerals if you haven't already. Bring up Baby Kaylee who was recently in the news to steer the conversation towards organ donation. Then once you're on that, ponder whether you know your own parents' wishes (aging parents, you know) and ask your husband if he knows his mother's wishes.
Then your husband can use the same technique to find out his mother's wishes.
Allow some time to pass and price her wishes to find out whether you can afford them. Then, at a calm and neutral moment, have your husband say to her "BTW, Mom, remember a while back you said you wanted to be buried in a solid gold tomb? Today I just happened to stumble upon how much that costs and there's no way I can make that work. Do you have insurance or pre-planning or anything?"
At this point she should either agree to insurance or take responsibility for pre-planning. And if she doesn't, she has been duly informed that her wishes cannot be fulfilled without some action on her part, so you're off the hook for not doing more than you can afford.
Monday, May 04, 2009
Leaving kids unsupervised
1. An article in Salon mentions in passing that Parents Today now wait for the school bus with their kids instead of the kids waiting at the bus stop unsupervised.
This made me think of Erica.
Erica was a neighbourhood girl a year ahead of me who would sit on the mailbox. She'd climb up on top of the red Canada Post mailbox and sit there waiting for the bus to come. I don't know why, that's just what she did.
Obviously, you're not supposed to sit on the mailbox. But there were no grownups around to stop her, so she sat on the mailbox. It was a harmless way of breaking the rules.
A lot of harmless rule-breaking went on at the bus stop. If someone had seen SNL or the Sunday Night Sex Show, they'd tell us all about it. If someone knew a dirty joke, they'd share it. People would apply the make-up their parents said they were too young for. People would eat the junk food their parents had banned from the family home. People would remove the toques their parents had insisted they wear. All against the rules, all ultimately harmless.
We'd also do other things that weren't against the rules, but you just couldn't do in front of grownups. We'd take a "Who's your ideal celeb crush?" quiz in Y&M. We'd bitch about our English teacher. We'd concoct elaborate plans for one of our number to Talk To A Boy. Harmless, not against the rules, but not for the ears of parents or teachers.
The bus stop wasn't utopia. The bullies were there too, and for this reason I wouldn't have minded if it was normal for parents to wait with us. (I wouldn't have wanted my parents there if it wasn't normal, but if everyone else's parents were there - or even if there were just a few supervising grownups to keep the bullies down - I wouldn't have minded.) However, I didn't feel any less safe than at school, and I do see its value as an unsupservised public space for kids.
So this makes me wonder what effect it has on kids to be closed out of unsupervised public space. When they can't sit on the mailbox, how does their adolescent rebellion manifest itself?
2. A Globe and Mail writer blogs about the difficulty of butting out of her kids' post-secondary education.
This makes me think of the value of OAC (i.e. Grade 13).
OAC students were generally over 18, and the OAC courses were managed with that assumption. Students who were over 18 could sign themselves in and out of school rather than needing a note from their parents for every absence. As legal adults they were accountable for their own education, and the teachers actually couldn't talk to the student's parents without the student's permission. As a result of this OAC classes didn't have the custodial element of other classes and didn't presume to be accountable to the parents. (It's possible that the parents of a minor OAC student might have been allowed to go talk to the kid's teacher, but it just Wasn't Done.)
Many students in my school started taking OACs in Grade 12 or even Grade 11 (for various reasons that I can get into if you're interested but are irrelevant to this blog post). I started taking OACs in my Grade 12 year, and becaue I was born in December I was 16 years old when I started my first OAC class. Starting at the age of 16 I had courses where if a teacher was absent, the class was cancelled. Where the teacher wasn't expecting a parental signature on my report card, and wouldn't give a parent-teacher interview without my permission. Where I wouldn't be disciplined for missing class, I'd just better damn well catch up and not accrue 20 unexcused absences. I was still in high school, still living at my parents' (and still expected to be), I just had full legal and personal responsibility for my own educaction.
For one year, half my classes were like this. For the next year, all my classes were like this. Then the next year I was in university, by which time it didn't even occur to me or my parents that they might possibly have any business interfering with my academics.
This may vary for people who are more mature or people who are old for their year, but for me OAC was a valuable transition and a key part of preparing me to take responsibility for my own university career.
This made me think of Erica.
Erica was a neighbourhood girl a year ahead of me who would sit on the mailbox. She'd climb up on top of the red Canada Post mailbox and sit there waiting for the bus to come. I don't know why, that's just what she did.
Obviously, you're not supposed to sit on the mailbox. But there were no grownups around to stop her, so she sat on the mailbox. It was a harmless way of breaking the rules.
A lot of harmless rule-breaking went on at the bus stop. If someone had seen SNL or the Sunday Night Sex Show, they'd tell us all about it. If someone knew a dirty joke, they'd share it. People would apply the make-up their parents said they were too young for. People would eat the junk food their parents had banned from the family home. People would remove the toques their parents had insisted they wear. All against the rules, all ultimately harmless.
We'd also do other things that weren't against the rules, but you just couldn't do in front of grownups. We'd take a "Who's your ideal celeb crush?" quiz in Y&M. We'd bitch about our English teacher. We'd concoct elaborate plans for one of our number to Talk To A Boy. Harmless, not against the rules, but not for the ears of parents or teachers.
The bus stop wasn't utopia. The bullies were there too, and for this reason I wouldn't have minded if it was normal for parents to wait with us. (I wouldn't have wanted my parents there if it wasn't normal, but if everyone else's parents were there - or even if there were just a few supervising grownups to keep the bullies down - I wouldn't have minded.) However, I didn't feel any less safe than at school, and I do see its value as an unsupservised public space for kids.
So this makes me wonder what effect it has on kids to be closed out of unsupervised public space. When they can't sit on the mailbox, how does their adolescent rebellion manifest itself?
2. A Globe and Mail writer blogs about the difficulty of butting out of her kids' post-secondary education.
This makes me think of the value of OAC (i.e. Grade 13).
OAC students were generally over 18, and the OAC courses were managed with that assumption. Students who were over 18 could sign themselves in and out of school rather than needing a note from their parents for every absence. As legal adults they were accountable for their own education, and the teachers actually couldn't talk to the student's parents without the student's permission. As a result of this OAC classes didn't have the custodial element of other classes and didn't presume to be accountable to the parents. (It's possible that the parents of a minor OAC student might have been allowed to go talk to the kid's teacher, but it just Wasn't Done.)
Many students in my school started taking OACs in Grade 12 or even Grade 11 (for various reasons that I can get into if you're interested but are irrelevant to this blog post). I started taking OACs in my Grade 12 year, and becaue I was born in December I was 16 years old when I started my first OAC class. Starting at the age of 16 I had courses where if a teacher was absent, the class was cancelled. Where the teacher wasn't expecting a parental signature on my report card, and wouldn't give a parent-teacher interview without my permission. Where I wouldn't be disciplined for missing class, I'd just better damn well catch up and not accrue 20 unexcused absences. I was still in high school, still living at my parents' (and still expected to be), I just had full legal and personal responsibility for my own educaction.
For one year, half my classes were like this. For the next year, all my classes were like this. Then the next year I was in university, by which time it didn't even occur to me or my parents that they might possibly have any business interfering with my academics.
This may vary for people who are more mature or people who are old for their year, but for me OAC was a valuable transition and a key part of preparing me to take responsibility for my own university career.
Saturday, May 02, 2009
Why do parents want their kids to play outside?
This train of thought was inspired by today's For Better or For Worse, but it happened to me all the time in real life and it's a trope you often see in comic strips and other media.
Parents tell their kids to stop watching TV and play outside because it's a beautiful day.
Why do they care? Seriously. Why do they have this need for their child to stop what they're actually enjoying and go through the motions of enjoying the beautiful day?
You often see this in older contexts where the kids don't need to be immediately supervised, so it's not that the kids' presence indoors is stopping the parents from enjoying the beautiful day themselves. In fact, in the comic strip context, the parent most often stays inside while kicking the kids outside. Why?
Parents tell their kids to stop watching TV and play outside because it's a beautiful day.
Why do they care? Seriously. Why do they have this need for their child to stop what they're actually enjoying and go through the motions of enjoying the beautiful day?
You often see this in older contexts where the kids don't need to be immediately supervised, so it's not that the kids' presence indoors is stopping the parents from enjoying the beautiful day themselves. In fact, in the comic strip context, the parent most often stays inside while kicking the kids outside. Why?
Sunday, March 29, 2009
Random thoughts from childhood
1. When I was a kid, a lot of the grownups around me assumed that if I was into something, that must necessarily be because it's trendy. Like that the reason I was into it was because it's trendy, and if I'm into it that must be a sign that it's trendy. Strange logic, that. Some of the things I was into were trendy, but others weren't. Like everyone, I'd pick and choose what I liked and what worked for me from everything that crossed my path. I seriously doubt any of the adults were into only trendy things, so why would they assume that I was?
2. When I had to do presentations in front of the class at school, the things the teachers would critique would always include symptoms of my shyness (talking quietly, not making eye contact, playing with my hair and other nervous tics). I know that a confident presentation is better than a messy presentation, but I do wonder if they seriously thought I could speak in front of the class with confidence when I couldn't even sit quietly in the classroom with confidence. I'm fine with the grade itself being lower for a messy presentation, but based on the nature of their comments it seemed like they thought that I could actually carry off a smooth presentation but just...wasn't.
Once in music class we had this assignment where we wrote a page or two about our favourite song and what it means to us. Mine was a song that reflected my feelings at the time (unrequited, of course) for a certain boy, and I wrote a very nice and meaningful blurb. Then, unbeknownst to me in choosing a song, we had to present them in front of the class. And the boy in question was in the class. So I made a stammery, heavily edited presentation, thanking the god I had recently ceased to believe in that I'm physically incapable of blushing. In the comments I got back, the teacher seemed genuinely baffled that my written submission was so good but my presentation was such a mess.
So because of this, I find myself wondering if the teachers were grading ruthlessly objectively, or if it genuinely didn't occur to them that talking in front of the class would be extremely difficult and some people might not have it in them. After all, teachers are people who have chosen to make their living talking in front of a classroom every day, maybe they honestly don't know that some people just can't. (Just like how in unedited and unreflective moments I sometimes find myself thinking "I don't see what the big deal is. Just learn French, it only take a couple of years of intensive study.")
3. Speaking of the classroom, the one thing my resource teachers were always trying to get me to do was raise my hand and answer questions in class. At that time, I knew the answer to literally every question the teacher would ask (because their teaching method was to ask questions about material they'd already covered, not because I'm such a fricking genius) but I never raised my hand because it conflicted with my continuing mission of becoming invisible so the bullies would forget about me. Even now, with adult knowledge and 20/20 hindsight, I can't figure out how raising my hand and answering questions would have been helpful to me. I knew the answer and I knew that I knew the answer. I don't see how it would have made a difference to my education to raise my hand and announce to the class "HERE I AM AND I KNOW THE ANSWER!" I do see how it would be helpful to the teacher who was trying to conduct a class, but I don't see what it would have done for me in terms of my own enrichment.
2. When I had to do presentations in front of the class at school, the things the teachers would critique would always include symptoms of my shyness (talking quietly, not making eye contact, playing with my hair and other nervous tics). I know that a confident presentation is better than a messy presentation, but I do wonder if they seriously thought I could speak in front of the class with confidence when I couldn't even sit quietly in the classroom with confidence. I'm fine with the grade itself being lower for a messy presentation, but based on the nature of their comments it seemed like they thought that I could actually carry off a smooth presentation but just...wasn't.
Once in music class we had this assignment where we wrote a page or two about our favourite song and what it means to us. Mine was a song that reflected my feelings at the time (unrequited, of course) for a certain boy, and I wrote a very nice and meaningful blurb. Then, unbeknownst to me in choosing a song, we had to present them in front of the class. And the boy in question was in the class. So I made a stammery, heavily edited presentation, thanking the god I had recently ceased to believe in that I'm physically incapable of blushing. In the comments I got back, the teacher seemed genuinely baffled that my written submission was so good but my presentation was such a mess.
So because of this, I find myself wondering if the teachers were grading ruthlessly objectively, or if it genuinely didn't occur to them that talking in front of the class would be extremely difficult and some people might not have it in them. After all, teachers are people who have chosen to make their living talking in front of a classroom every day, maybe they honestly don't know that some people just can't. (Just like how in unedited and unreflective moments I sometimes find myself thinking "I don't see what the big deal is. Just learn French, it only take a couple of years of intensive study.")
3. Speaking of the classroom, the one thing my resource teachers were always trying to get me to do was raise my hand and answer questions in class. At that time, I knew the answer to literally every question the teacher would ask (because their teaching method was to ask questions about material they'd already covered, not because I'm such a fricking genius) but I never raised my hand because it conflicted with my continuing mission of becoming invisible so the bullies would forget about me. Even now, with adult knowledge and 20/20 hindsight, I can't figure out how raising my hand and answering questions would have been helpful to me. I knew the answer and I knew that I knew the answer. I don't see how it would have made a difference to my education to raise my hand and announce to the class "HERE I AM AND I KNOW THE ANSWER!" I do see how it would be helpful to the teacher who was trying to conduct a class, but I don't see what it would have done for me in terms of my own enrichment.
Monday, February 09, 2009
Parental forgetfulness
I've blogged before about how odd it is that parents seem to lose the ability to identify with the child half of a parent-child relationship, but this one blew me away.
I overheard part of a conversation where a mother of teens was talking to the mother of a baby. The baby's mother was talking about how much angst they were going through with teething, and the teens' mother said "Just wait until I tell you what happens when she gets her period!" The baby's mother replied "Don't even tell me!"
It's like they have no firsthand memory of what it's like to get your first period! The baby's mother is my age so there's no reason why she shouldn't remember her early teens, and it is her biological child that she gestated herself so I know she menstruates. But they're talking about this as though it's something completely Other that happens to your kids rather than something that we've all been through!
I overheard part of a conversation where a mother of teens was talking to the mother of a baby. The baby's mother was talking about how much angst they were going through with teething, and the teens' mother said "Just wait until I tell you what happens when she gets her period!" The baby's mother replied "Don't even tell me!"
It's like they have no firsthand memory of what it's like to get your first period! The baby's mother is my age so there's no reason why she shouldn't remember her early teens, and it is her biological child that she gestated herself so I know she menstruates. But they're talking about this as though it's something completely Other that happens to your kids rather than something that we've all been through!
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Parenting is futile
Think about all the behaviours that parents try to limit or restrict in their children.
Now think about how many of those limitations or restrictions are relevant to adults.
We can smoke and drink and have sex. We can go out whenever we want with whomever we please and go driving around in a car if one of us has one and come back as late as we want and stay up as late as we want before going to bed. We can talk on the phone or play videogames or watch TV or go on the internet as much as we want with no restrictions, and if we hear a swear word or see someone's boobies it's no big deal, not even worth mentioning really. We can have whatever cake or cookies or candy or junk food we want in any quantity without having to first drink a glass of milk or eat 11 peas or any other arbitrary rules. We can wear all the make-up we want, plus high heels or short hemlines or low-cut tops or bras with the best engineering money can buy. We can dye, pierce, or tattoo any part of our body humanly possibly. We can totally just walk into a pet store and buy a puppy. (We don't, because it's morally wrong, but we totally can.) We can leave our beds unmade and our clothes unironed and take hour-long showers and leave the house looking like that.
And we do whatever we want out of this list, whenever we want, to no ill effects.
And yet for the first 18 years of our lives, our parents were desperately trying to restrict these behaviours.
Now think about how many of those limitations or restrictions are relevant to adults.
We can smoke and drink and have sex. We can go out whenever we want with whomever we please and go driving around in a car if one of us has one and come back as late as we want and stay up as late as we want before going to bed. We can talk on the phone or play videogames or watch TV or go on the internet as much as we want with no restrictions, and if we hear a swear word or see someone's boobies it's no big deal, not even worth mentioning really. We can have whatever cake or cookies or candy or junk food we want in any quantity without having to first drink a glass of milk or eat 11 peas or any other arbitrary rules. We can wear all the make-up we want, plus high heels or short hemlines or low-cut tops or bras with the best engineering money can buy. We can dye, pierce, or tattoo any part of our body humanly possibly. We can totally just walk into a pet store and buy a puppy. (We don't, because it's morally wrong, but we totally can.) We can leave our beds unmade and our clothes unironed and take hour-long showers and leave the house looking like that.
And we do whatever we want out of this list, whenever we want, to no ill effects.
And yet for the first 18 years of our lives, our parents were desperately trying to restrict these behaviours.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
What would have happened if my parents had banned Barbie dolls
Broadsheet discusses parents forbidding their children from owning Barbie dolls.
I had dozens of Barbie dolls - either 27 or 37, I forget which. I liked them because they let me be a girl (in that playing with dolls is a girly thing to do) and they let me role-play at being at the fun parts of being a grown-up woman (dressing up in grownup clothes and heels and, later, having sex.) I'm sure my parents weren't too thrilled with this. They tended to discourage girly things, and I'm sure they didn't want their kids coveting fancy clothes or role-playing sex. However, they did not ban Barbie from our house, which is a good thing because if they had it would have been far worse for my self-image.
You see, as I've mentioned before, I'm very femme mentally but don't look very feminine physically - especially not when I was a pre-pubescent child. I've always been bigger than average for my age, I have a big nose (just like my father's) and a heavy brow (just like my father) and unattractive dark skin around my eyes (which I'd never seen on another person when I was a child). I'm clumsy and awkward and say and do the wrong thing (just like my father). My feet are enormous and rather ugly (just like my father's). My body hair has always been black and more copious than average (just like my father's). I was the first person in my class (male or female) to be able to grow a mustache and the only person (male or female) at the Grade 5 pool party with hairy armpits. When my hair was short people mistook me for a boy all the time, which is why I now wear my hair hip-length.
My parents often tried to discourage me from girly things and point me more towards boy things. I don't know why exactly this is - I don't have a brother so I have no idea which parts of their child-rearing were about raising girls and which parts were about raising children - but I suspect a lot of it had to do with because being girly is less convenient. A kid who doesn't care about clothes is easier to shop for than one who wants to be a pretty pretty princess (and I was especially complicated because I wanted to be a pretty princess but had no idea what kinds of clothes I wanted to accomplish that and hate the process of shopping.) A kid who wants to dig in the garden is more useful than one who runs away screaming "EWWWW! Worms!!!!" It's easier to get everyone off to school on time when no one feels the need to do their hair and put on make-up than when you have two kids wearing a total of five kinds of foundation between them.
However, because I was already wanting to express and present as far more feminine than I was capable of, whenever my parents tried to discourage me from something girly or encouraged me towards something more boyish, I felt like they were saying I don't get to be girly because I'm not pretty enough, and should just be a boy instead. I was nowhere near capable of expressing this at the time, but that's how I felt. They said "You can't wear a skirt because you'll be running around," I heard "You aren't girly enough to dress like a girl, so you may as well just act like a noisy smelly running-around boy." (This is back when boys were yucky.) They made me help my father with home improvements or join him on a bike ride, I heard "You're practically a boy anyway, so you have to keep your father company with his boy stuff." (And to add insult to injury, when my sister didn't have to do this stuff (in retrospect probably because she was too young) I felt like it was because she's prettier and looks more like a girl so she doesn't have to do the yucky boy stuff.) So if they had forbidden Barbie dolls, I would have taken it as "You're not pretty enough to play with these pretty things like all the other girls."
I did like some boy toys and boy activities too. I like legos and trains and science fiction and video games and dodgeball and Ninja Turtles. But these were never a source of conflict. I could do them, I like them, people never tried to stop me, they never made people think I was a boy. It didn't feel like gender expression, it just felt like doing stuff I liked. I don't like them because they're masculine (or even despite the fact that they're masculine), I like them because I like them. But with girly toys, there was always an aspect of gender expression there. I guess it's similar to how if I like a dress it's partly because it makes me look feminine, but if I like running shoes it's because they're nice running shoes.
Now I did (and probably still do) have body image issues, but that had nothing to do with the Barbie dolls. For example, the thing I hate most is the dark skin around my eyes, but that's because I never saw anything similar on anyone else ever except cartoon portrayals of evil. (I have seen it on other people since, but no one who was around when I was a kid had anything like it.) I hate how my stomach sticks out no matter what because my waist is so short there's nowhere else for my guts to go, but that's more from cultural disdain for fat rather than anything to do with Barbie specifically. I'd still have that even if I'd never met a Barbie doll.
But mostly Barbie's figure was irrelevant because I was pre-pubescent when I was playing with her, and she represented a grown-up woman. I did aspire to be a grown-up woman one day, but I certainly didn't want to be one yet. My Barbie play was just forward-looking role-play for one day when I was a proper grownup with breasts and heels and lipstick. I didn't have big breasts or mile-long legs when I was playing with Barbie, but that's fine because I didn't want them yet. I wanted to be a pretty little girl, not a sexy grown-up woman. And by the time I had matured enough physically that I had a woman's body and matured enough mentally that I wanted a woman's body (i.e. in the now instead of in the indefinite future), Barbie was irrelevant. When I wasn't getting laid, the other girls around me who were getting laid were relevant (what does she have that I don't?) and when I was getting laid they were irrelevant too because I was quite clearly sexy enough.
All banning Barbies would have done was make me feel more like I wasn't good enough for girly stuff when I was a child. So it's a good thing my parents didn't.
Edited to add: I started out just writing this as an anecdote, but I think I have a broader conclusion. A lot of the time when parents don't want their kids to have Barbies, it's really that they don't want them to want Barbies, or to want what she stands for. But if the kid already wants Barbies (or whatever else the parents are trying to ban), banning the thing isn't going to stop them from wanting it. So when parents are inclined to forbid something, they should first think about whether what they really want is for the kid not to have the thing, or just not to want it.
I had dozens of Barbie dolls - either 27 or 37, I forget which. I liked them because they let me be a girl (in that playing with dolls is a girly thing to do) and they let me role-play at being at the fun parts of being a grown-up woman (dressing up in grownup clothes and heels and, later, having sex.) I'm sure my parents weren't too thrilled with this. They tended to discourage girly things, and I'm sure they didn't want their kids coveting fancy clothes or role-playing sex. However, they did not ban Barbie from our house, which is a good thing because if they had it would have been far worse for my self-image.
You see, as I've mentioned before, I'm very femme mentally but don't look very feminine physically - especially not when I was a pre-pubescent child. I've always been bigger than average for my age, I have a big nose (just like my father's) and a heavy brow (just like my father) and unattractive dark skin around my eyes (which I'd never seen on another person when I was a child). I'm clumsy and awkward and say and do the wrong thing (just like my father). My feet are enormous and rather ugly (just like my father's). My body hair has always been black and more copious than average (just like my father's). I was the first person in my class (male or female) to be able to grow a mustache and the only person (male or female) at the Grade 5 pool party with hairy armpits. When my hair was short people mistook me for a boy all the time, which is why I now wear my hair hip-length.
My parents often tried to discourage me from girly things and point me more towards boy things. I don't know why exactly this is - I don't have a brother so I have no idea which parts of their child-rearing were about raising girls and which parts were about raising children - but I suspect a lot of it had to do with because being girly is less convenient. A kid who doesn't care about clothes is easier to shop for than one who wants to be a pretty pretty princess (and I was especially complicated because I wanted to be a pretty princess but had no idea what kinds of clothes I wanted to accomplish that and hate the process of shopping.) A kid who wants to dig in the garden is more useful than one who runs away screaming "EWWWW! Worms!!!!" It's easier to get everyone off to school on time when no one feels the need to do their hair and put on make-up than when you have two kids wearing a total of five kinds of foundation between them.
However, because I was already wanting to express and present as far more feminine than I was capable of, whenever my parents tried to discourage me from something girly or encouraged me towards something more boyish, I felt like they were saying I don't get to be girly because I'm not pretty enough, and should just be a boy instead. I was nowhere near capable of expressing this at the time, but that's how I felt. They said "You can't wear a skirt because you'll be running around," I heard "You aren't girly enough to dress like a girl, so you may as well just act like a noisy smelly running-around boy." (This is back when boys were yucky.) They made me help my father with home improvements or join him on a bike ride, I heard "You're practically a boy anyway, so you have to keep your father company with his boy stuff." (And to add insult to injury, when my sister didn't have to do this stuff (in retrospect probably because she was too young) I felt like it was because she's prettier and looks more like a girl so she doesn't have to do the yucky boy stuff.) So if they had forbidden Barbie dolls, I would have taken it as "You're not pretty enough to play with these pretty things like all the other girls."
I did like some boy toys and boy activities too. I like legos and trains and science fiction and video games and dodgeball and Ninja Turtles. But these were never a source of conflict. I could do them, I like them, people never tried to stop me, they never made people think I was a boy. It didn't feel like gender expression, it just felt like doing stuff I liked. I don't like them because they're masculine (or even despite the fact that they're masculine), I like them because I like them. But with girly toys, there was always an aspect of gender expression there. I guess it's similar to how if I like a dress it's partly because it makes me look feminine, but if I like running shoes it's because they're nice running shoes.
Now I did (and probably still do) have body image issues, but that had nothing to do with the Barbie dolls. For example, the thing I hate most is the dark skin around my eyes, but that's because I never saw anything similar on anyone else ever except cartoon portrayals of evil. (I have seen it on other people since, but no one who was around when I was a kid had anything like it.) I hate how my stomach sticks out no matter what because my waist is so short there's nowhere else for my guts to go, but that's more from cultural disdain for fat rather than anything to do with Barbie specifically. I'd still have that even if I'd never met a Barbie doll.
But mostly Barbie's figure was irrelevant because I was pre-pubescent when I was playing with her, and she represented a grown-up woman. I did aspire to be a grown-up woman one day, but I certainly didn't want to be one yet. My Barbie play was just forward-looking role-play for one day when I was a proper grownup with breasts and heels and lipstick. I didn't have big breasts or mile-long legs when I was playing with Barbie, but that's fine because I didn't want them yet. I wanted to be a pretty little girl, not a sexy grown-up woman. And by the time I had matured enough physically that I had a woman's body and matured enough mentally that I wanted a woman's body (i.e. in the now instead of in the indefinite future), Barbie was irrelevant. When I wasn't getting laid, the other girls around me who were getting laid were relevant (what does she have that I don't?) and when I was getting laid they were irrelevant too because I was quite clearly sexy enough.
All banning Barbies would have done was make me feel more like I wasn't good enough for girly stuff when I was a child. So it's a good thing my parents didn't.
Edited to add: I started out just writing this as an anecdote, but I think I have a broader conclusion. A lot of the time when parents don't want their kids to have Barbies, it's really that they don't want them to want Barbies, or to want what she stands for. But if the kid already wants Barbies (or whatever else the parents are trying to ban), banning the thing isn't going to stop them from wanting it. So when parents are inclined to forbid something, they should first think about whether what they really want is for the kid not to have the thing, or just not to want it.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Parents vs. dog people
I like to interact with dogs, and sometimes I feel moved to interact with children (damn ovaries!). I start the interactions the same way with both: by smiling and (if appropriate) saying hi, then I continue if the creature responds positively.
Somewhere between 50% and 75% of the time, the dog people try to temper the dog's interaction, by making it sit or scolding it about approaching me. I'm not sure whether this is intended to protect the dog from me or to proect me from the dog. (And I'm not sure what an appropriate response on my part is - I want to pet the dog and it seems to want me to pet it, but I don't want to mess up its training. But it doesn't seem fair that dogs with stricter training should never get to play with a willing passer-by.)
But I have never in my life had anyone try to temper my interaction with their child, not even total strangers. They let me say hi to their kid, they let me do finger-grabby with their baby, they let their kid tell me all about Dora the Explorer, they let me convince their kids to press elevator buttons for me, I've even had strangers stand by smiling while their toddler hugged my leg like I was her new best friend (I thought she had the wrong person, but even when I looked down and made eye contact she just kept hugging my leg and smiling back up at me).
I'm not sure what this means. If it had to be one or the other, I'd rather get to play with the dogs.
Somewhere between 50% and 75% of the time, the dog people try to temper the dog's interaction, by making it sit or scolding it about approaching me. I'm not sure whether this is intended to protect the dog from me or to proect me from the dog. (And I'm not sure what an appropriate response on my part is - I want to pet the dog and it seems to want me to pet it, but I don't want to mess up its training. But it doesn't seem fair that dogs with stricter training should never get to play with a willing passer-by.)
But I have never in my life had anyone try to temper my interaction with their child, not even total strangers. They let me say hi to their kid, they let me do finger-grabby with their baby, they let their kid tell me all about Dora the Explorer, they let me convince their kids to press elevator buttons for me, I've even had strangers stand by smiling while their toddler hugged my leg like I was her new best friend (I thought she had the wrong person, but even when I looked down and made eye contact she just kept hugging my leg and smiling back up at me).
I'm not sure what this means. If it had to be one or the other, I'd rather get to play with the dogs.
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Things They Should Study: why can't parents identify with their kids?
When people become parents, they seem to lose the ability to identify with the child half of the parent-child relationship. Even when thinking in the abstract about situations that don't involve themselves or their kids, they can never seem to get past "How would I feel if I were in that kid's parents' situation?" to reach "How would I feel if I were in that kid's situation?"
This is strange. All parents have been kids. Every parent I've ever talked to can still remember things from when they were kids. They can think about their favourite toy or their first crush or a teacher they hated and remember how they felt in that situation. So why don't they seem able to think about how their child self would have felt in a parent-child situation?
Someone should really study this from a psychological and neurological perspective.
This is strange. All parents have been kids. Every parent I've ever talked to can still remember things from when they were kids. They can think about their favourite toy or their first crush or a teacher they hated and remember how they felt in that situation. So why don't they seem able to think about how their child self would have felt in a parent-child situation?
Someone should really study this from a psychological and neurological perspective.
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