I’m not a believer in excuses. I’m a believer is self-development, in intentionally mentoring our children. I’m a believer in (& hopefully practitioner of) giving your best and reaching for your best, especially as a parent, step-parent, guardian…

But. Us Gen X-ers in particular are wonderfully adept at feeling guilty about our parenthood. [for more, see for example Daddy Daze's thoughts on the topic].

My two cents worth today - unglamorous and poorly worded - is really simple. Come to terms with the fact that you are going to screw up as a parent. Come to terms with the fact that the last time your kids will ever be perfect is the moment they were born. From there on it, they’re as fallible as you and I. They will screw up too.

I don’t think parenting is about perfection, but about loving and responsible engagement. Give yourself permission to fail even while stretching yourself to be a better man or woman.

A few days ago, this happened to my car. I was in it, my boys were in it, but thank God, none of us were hurt.

Simply put, a van parked on the side of the road decided to do a “u-turn” right in front of me - and I mean right in front of me. I had already begun to pass him at 60 kph when WHAM! he zooms around - no indicators - just this white van filling my vision.

Well, you can see the damage. It could have been a lot worse. I hit him square in the driver’s door then glanced off and slewed across the road to end up on the grass opposite. Fortunately oncoming traffic was a good 200 or 300 metres away as I slid in front of it (it’s amazing what your brain registers in the two seconds it all happens in).

But I repeat, no one was hurt. That’s the main thing.

My poor little car is now with the insurance company and we’re back to a one-car family for a while.

Well, stuff happens. I want to thank those of you I know who pray occasionally for my family and I. I felt those prayers that day.

With what happened to the Molk recently, which is far more serious than my little prang here, it makes you take stock and make the most of what you have. (Hope you’re making a quick and complete recovery Steve).

by Jonathan of Growing Up Wth The Kids …

About two weeks ago, I read “The Five Love Languages of Children”, after Pete recommended it on his monthly newsletter Whetstone.  The book was a quick read despite being packed with information.  The main premise of the book is that a child is more likely to behave well and respond to direction if the child feels loved and loved without conditions.

This information is nothing groundbreaking; as a matter of fact, this key idea has been in print since the Bible.  So, why bother discussing this book?  Good question,  one good reason is that the second element of the book states that not only do we need to let children know they are unconditionally loved, but we have to do so in a way they understand-hence the “five” languages of love.  A second good reason for reading the book, you may be like me and need a reminder that you may be so caught up in rewarding good behavior and disciplining bad behavior that your child perceives that love must be earned.

I have less than three years before my stepdaughter is out of the house and up until the moment I read the book I had been ticking off the days until my stepdaughter moved away.  Her behavior and the communication within our household have been on a downward spiral for months.  I came into her life just before she became a teen and until that point she had rarely experienced any rules or consequences.  The mean old stepdad entered the picture and she was no longer allowed to talkback, she was expected to do chores, and she was expected to pick up after herself.

In hindsight, it wasn’t a battle that I should have begun.  I’m a take charge sort of guy and when I saw her treat her mother the way she did I stepped in.  I tried to get mom to make the changes, but mom was too used to the verbal assault to even recognize it.  Had I known better, I would have waited, though it would have driven me nuts to watch my wife be on the receiving end of threats, cut-downs, and screaming tantrums.  Had I known better, I would have developed a relationship with my stepdaughter before I started trying to teach her some manners and responsibility.  From the beginning I set up a conditional love pattern.  I established rewards for good behavior and consequences for bad behavior.  What I didn’t do was let her know I love her, just because.

As the spiral continued ever downward I have been able to get mom on board with the rewards and consequences.  We dug in our heels deeper and have been fighting harder to “teach” her responsibilities.  The whole family is battle harden by the endeavor. 

I didn’t realize it until I read “The Five Love Languages of Children.”  By the third chapter I started having a playback of life in our household over the past years and I see that my stepdaughter hasn’t been given unconditional love in a long time.  Not just from me, but mom has also been caught up in trying to teach her to be responsible.  I understood after the third chapter that my stepdaughter fighting us way too much for it to be a matter of her not “learning.”  It was most likely defiance, because she doesn’t realize that we do love her.

I resolved to let her know we loved her in a big way.  On a day she was fighting with her mother, I took her out and spent the entire day with her and made sure I communicated to her that she was loved in each of the different languages of love, hoping that the shotgun approached would hit home.  It did.  She was responsive and open the entire day.  It was a wonderful day and communication opened up in the household …for a few days. 

I knew that one big day wouldn’t change things forever, but I didn’t realize how unprepared I was for the day she reverted to her usual defiance.  I had made a big effort to show love to her and it involved opening up emotionally.  This, is something the book doesn’t cover, (Perhaps, because it is really isn’t intended for stepfamilies.), but I wasn’t ready for the sense of betrayal and hurt that occurred the very next time she didn’t get her way.  Instead of the level conversation we had earlier in the week, as soon as she didn’t get what she wanted she went for the jugular and through the weekend back in my face.  She continued to say mean things and I was sucked in.  I was hurt and I was angry. It was a nasty fight and I was back to ticking off days until she was out of my life.

Then last night I finished watching the Lord of The Rings and a melancholy nostalgia for my childhood came over me.  I spent the last half hour of my evening locked away in a room enjoying a fading memory of how great my childhood was and how easy I had really wanted Middle Earth to exist.  In the reverence I understood that I was able to feel that because as I child I wasn’t worried about whether my parents loved me or not.  I knew they did.  They obviously spoke my language, because I never questioned it, consequently my behavior wasn’t about getting attention.  I was happy to wonder into new worlds and imagine and enjoy.  And then I thought about my stepdaughter’s life, again.  Does she enjoy life?  Or is she so busy trying to find a sense of love from somebody that she can’t enjoy the other things?  And so,  as I turned out the lights and went  to bed I did so knowing that tonight I have to set my hurt aside, stop ticking of the days and try once again to let my stepdaughter know she is loved.  And, more importantly, know that she will be weary of hearing it and will test it.  I know now that this is exactly what she was doing to me.  She wanted to believe that last weekend was real, but she doesn’t want to get hurt if it isn’t and so she tested me and will test me again.

Readers of “The Five Love Languages” beware.  The book has a powerful message and powerful tools, but with great power, comes great responsibility.  By all means, use what it teaches, but if you suspect your child feels that they haven’t known love for some time, be ready for them to test it and test you.  Be ready to love, despite the mean things they can say.

***

Jonathan is a longtime friend of Freakedout Fathers, a school prinicipal and author of the blog Growing Up Wth The Kids.

I don’t know about you, but I’m a huge believer in routine. Routine helps keep things on track, lowers stress, enables punctuality and completion of tasks, prepares the children of the family for adulthood (and protects the adults from a nervous breakdown).

But. It can be a great thing to break that routine, in the sense of doing something out of the ordinary. Like the times I played Pumpkin Rugby and Zombie Tag with the boys. The time Youngest Son and I went to an audition together. The time I took the boys for an hour’s drive to another beach (we live at the beach) where I knew there was a tidal stream we could dam with logs and such, put up with their complaining at the length of the drive and their requests to turn around, and partook of their joy at damming that stream when we finally got there.

It’s an effort to break routine. And it doesn’t always pay off. But the potential is there for the unexpected, the memorable, the “bonding-moments” to happen.

How could you do something out of the ordinary with the kids over the next week? For me, I’m planning to take Oldest Son out for icecream on Sunday. The best conversations seem to happen out of the house and over food (well sugar anyway)…

Worth perservering until the end of this one.

Is it just me or is Western society arranged so as to make it awkward for Dads to be involved in their kids lives (beyond watching them play football or playing x-box with them)?

I get suspicious looks when I’m watching over my kids in the swimming pool or at the playground or skatepark. I get sideways glances from all the Mums when I come onto school ground to pick up kids after school. (I’d like to think they’re checkin’ me out. I’d rather not believe that I actually look like a predator!)

Over the last few days, I’ve been busy trying to organise the latest batch of playdates for my boys, it being the second week of their Spring school holidays here in Australia. Again, I’m amazed at the coldness I receive when I call a school Mum about my boy playing with her boy. [No my boy is well-liked, so it's not that]

Admittedly, it’s a form of cold-calling; the phone rings out of the blue and there’s this deep (cultured ) voice  on the other end asking if Johnny can come over to play.

But the Mums (and Dads) that know me are only too happy to meet up at the park or let me take their kid to the movies with mine. Even today, a Mum I’ve only known for this year since Youngest Son moved to her son’s school - she let me take her son to the pool for a few hours. That’s an enormous amount of trust she invested in me and weirdly, I feel privileged that she did.

But usually all I’m doing is asking if Johnny can come to a movie, or meet us at a park for a couple of hours, or to a party…

Anyway, I’m rambling away from my point. My point is the coldness (and knockbacks) I receive when I call, compared to the warmth my wife receives on the odd occasion she does it. In our house I’m Master of the Offspring Social Calendar, but increasingly I’m asking her to make the call for this reason.

It shouldn’t be that way.

The thing that really got up my nose today (and I know it’s petty, but … hey … I’m petty) was receiving a list of contact details for other kids in Youngest Son’s class, which instead of having a column for “Parents’” had one for “Mums“. Is this what Loose Associations calls ‘acceptable prejudice’?

Or should I build a bridge and get over it?

You be the Judge. (And I’ll continue to think what I like and be annoyed by this. :) )