Default mode of parenting

Have you ever wondered why there are no professional courses to prepare us to be parents? I mean: all professional work requires professional training, often over many years - just to equip us with the basic knowledge and skills to start us off the professional work. But parenting? As I think about it, I sometimes find it strange. Parenting, to me, is no less an important or complex 'job' as any other modern day professions. Yet, while we undergo many years of intensive formal preparatory training for our professional work, we receive none for the lifelong 'job' of parenting. Could it be one reason why many of us feel very inadequate for the work of parenting? I certainly do feel inadequate - more with every passing year.

It is perhaps not exactly correct to say we did not receive preparation for parenting. The main source of pre-parenting 'training' is via the mode of observation - years of observing how we were parented by our parents. I think it is true to say that for most of us, our default mode of parenting is the way our parents parent us - because this is the only mode we know very well, having observed it for decades! In fact, I often 'caught' myself - always upon hindsight - treating my children the same way my parents treated me. One example is the tendency to become short-tempered at my children and to shout at them loudly with an angry tone. My wife used to say this to me, "I notice you are very impatient with our children and shout at them with a very scary tone and bulging eyes. But this is NOT you. You do not behave like this to other people." upon some soul searching, I realize that I was behaving in exactly the same way as my father on those occasions. I did not consciously intend to emulate him; it was subconscious imitation.

If your parents were good parenting models, then I think your had received very good 'training' to be a parent. But if you, like me, had parents with numerous parenting flaws [I should add at this point that this does not diminish my respect for them; for they lived through very difficult times where putting food on the table was already a big challenge, let alone the challenges of meeting our other needs], then I guess we need to do a lot of 'deconstructing' - consciously unlearning from our default mode of parenting and reflecting upon how we need to reconstruct new models to better help our children.

Over the last few years, I have found the work of 'deconstructing' onerous (because it means active reflection regularly) but rewarding. I found that I learnt a lot about myself and my children when I challenge the fundamentals of my default mode of parenting and found them lacking. I learnt to move out of my comfort zone to try new models of parenting. One such model that I have experimented (and still experimenting) is the active engagement mode of parenting - where I actively engage my children, communicate with them regularly, enjoy spending time with them etc. This is quite a contrast from the rather passive mode adopted by my parents - the picture of my father in my growing years is of one returning home from work to spend many hours on the television, responds to us only when we approach (say, for pocket money and signing of the report book), distant from us emotionally.

Deconstructing is a long process. It is an effort to change myself first(before I think of changing my children) As in all such self-renewal efforts, it is painful, humbling, and slow. In fact, writing these blogs is part of the process.

Children as trophies?

In public, when your children do something - like saying some socially inappropriate words, do you feel ashamed of them or that they have let you down? Or, conversely, when your children attain some achievements - such as winning a competition, do you feel proud of them, as if some of their 'glory' rub on to you? I do- all the time. I guess it is a fact: that whether we accept it or not, we are often judged by the 'performance' of our children. Using modern parlance, one of the KPIs of a successful person (esp a successful woman) is that our children are 'successful' (however 'success' is defined). In other words, the world at large judge us using this KPI, and we csnt change others' perception of us through how they look at our children.

But i think it is quite another thing to let this mindset get into our heads and affect our parenting decisions. If we do, then our children become a mere trophy in our collection. When this trophy-mentality takes root, we convey a very strong (perhaps unintended) message to our children: you must behave and do well because your parents' reputation hang on you. This message in itself is not wrong, i think; but if this becomes a predominant message, I fear it can distort their ultimate motivation for doing good - that it should focus on pleasing the parents and on the external observables instead of an intrinsic value for doing well.

The clearest example in my life is that of my children's behavior whenever we are in a social gathering. You know, in such gatherings, children can get hyped up and wander into all sorts of mischief. I used to get very perturbed when they 'shame' me by their mischiefs and I would punish them severely when we got home - far more severely than when they committed the same faults in private. Quite clearly, the increased severity of punishment has got to do with my anger - that they made me 'lose face' in front of my friends. To me, it is morally wrong to punish a child (more) because of my personal pride. Moreover, it sends the signal to them that something is 'more wrong' when done in public than in the privacy of the home. This runs against the grain of my belief that a child should weigh the merits of an act based on his internal set of values rather than the external consequences of the act.

I am now trying not to see them as my trophies. I want them to know that they should grow up as men and women in their own ways, and not shadowed by the mould of their parents. I am trying to accept their faults, even when they are laid bare under the glaring lights of the public. It is humbling for me when that happens, but I guess this is the price we need to pay as parents for them to develop as authentic people that are true to their own beliefs - whether at home or otherwise.

Father on pedestal?

When I first became a father, I thought that being a father is all about standing on a pedestal for my children: someone they look up to always as model as well as for instruction. Of late, I am beginning to learn that I am wrong to think like this on several counts.

First, I realize that learning is not all one-directional: I am the giver and they are the receiver of guidance. Certainly, I know I need to train and instruct my children. I would be a very irresponsible father if I do not take up this duty seriously. But fathering is not all about giving. It is also about learning too. I realize that as I try to help my children grow, I am growing together with them. I grow in patience when I find that they often do not get it all at once. I grow in understanding that some things - like character building - cannot be forced. I grow in knowing how to communicate with them in their changing circumstances - such as when they pass through childhood to teenage years. I grow in humility: i find that there is no sure formula to bring up children. I find that being a father is a wonderful opportunity to learn many things (often, just through interacting with the chidren) and it would be pity if I focus merely on the work of 'teaching them' and neglect altogether to reflect on all these learning points along the journey. I realise on hindsight that I have become quite a different person through being a father.

second, maintaining a permanent pose on the pedestal encourages pride in front of my children. It makes me feel that I cannot make mistakes in front of them; and at times when I do, it is very difficult to admit it and apologize to them. I still remember that the first time I said "sorry" to my children was the most difficult. I felt that it was a swallowing of pride and that it would compromise my 'stature' before them (part of maintaining position on pedestal). It did not help that my parents never apologized to me in my entire life. But I realized since then that apologizing for wrong is a very necessary part of parenting. Apart from setting an example to them that they too need to admit their mistakes and say "sorry" for their wrong, it is a good gesture of authenticity before our children - that might is not right and dad is not above reason.

Third, pedestal standing makes us look very inhuman. If all that my children see about me is a perfect model with no humanness and feelings, then I am not real to them and when they meet with big mistakes/pitfalls in life, they may think I am too 'high' to understand their wanderings. I want to present the "authentic me" before my children. I want them to know that dad is trying his best to set an example before them of living a meaningful life of integrity. But I also want them to know that dad has his weaknesses and struggles. He is living a "real" life - one that, despite his foibles, he is forging ahead with courage and hope.

I would like my children to see me as someone who can provide them with good advice from a higher vantage point - being older and more experienced than them. But I also want them to see me as an equal as a fellow feeling human - someone they won't feel 'small' with, but one they can heartily confide for their lives' problems and joys.

Burden or blessing?

I can't help it - but sometimes, I feel that my children are a form of burden. I know it is wrong to think of it that way, but it is a feeling that I can't deny having at times. The burdensome feeling comes whenever their needs fly in the face of what I have planned or envisioned for myself. For example, on my way home from work, I would envisage returning home to a quiet corner where I can put my legs up, sip some coffee, close my eyes, and be left alone for a while. But as you know, the reality can be quite different. It is not unusual to come home to a wailing child, a black-faced teen, and a daughter rushing towards me to pusk some papers in my face and ask, "how to do this question?" it is in these instances that I feel them being burdensome and something I can do without.

Well, I don't think I can erase this sort of feeling permanently. I am a human being with my own needs after all. But I can smell the dangers of viewing my children as burden. If left unchecked, i will let the joy of being with my children slip away from me; my children will also sense my unhappiness of being with them and may by and by distant from me. I guess the acid test for myself is: do my children see the frowning dad more or the smiling dad more whenever they are with me? I suppose if my 'feeling burdensome' disposition overrides the 'feeling happy' countenance then I would be quite a bore to be with, to say the least. It will manifest in impatience, short temper, task-orientedness, and intolerance. I don't want to be with such a person. I therefore don't blame my children if they avoid a dad like that.

How do I guard myself from slipping into this state? I guess it is ultimately down to how I view spending time with my children. If I see it purely as a "duty" that I must perform, or a serious of "tasks" that I must complete with them, then it will probably reach the state of burdensome very quickly. On the contrary, if I change my mindset and think of spending time with my children as a luxury and a privilege (and it is - because they grow up very fast, and they will soon have their own lives where we won't have such a luxury any more ...), something we should treasure every minute of, then I would approach it not as a burden but a real blessing. A blessing to share lives with them and to walk the journey together with them - happily.

I realize my two older children like to come into my bedroom in the night before we sleep. They just like to hang around my wife and I and have little chats to sort of wind down their day. I used to think that they are a nuisance - disturbing the time I have with my wife. I should start thinking of it now as a blessing. I might give them a goodnight hug (I mean the girl, not the 17year-old boy) and tell them how happy I am that they 'visit' us before they sleep.

Over critical?

Do you sometimes feel that you are too critical of your children?

I do. I realized that my first instinct when I look at my children tends to be to zoom-in on their weaknesses. This is manifested in a number of ways: when I look at my child's completed test paper, my impulse is to first ask, "why this one so simple also can get wrong?" and not "I notice you did better than the last time." or, when my teenage children comes home later than expected, the greeting at the door tends to be,"why so late?" and not "you must have a very tiring day, dear ..."

I guess it has to do with our Singaporean upbringing: our parents exact high standards for us and so now we are merely imposing the same on our children. I suppose setting high expectations in itself is not a bad thing. But if this high expectations becomes translated into being over-critical of our children, I wonder if it is healthy for them in the long run. I sometimes put myself in my children's shoes in an environment where the parents are never satisfied with whatever they do. I imagine it can be quite miserable. Everything I do - from untidy bedroom, poor school results, long computer time, to inappropriate language, failure to complete household chores - results in a frown from my parents and nothing I do ever seems to please them! If I am constantly under such an environment for a long period of time, I will feel very inadequate, unappreciated, and unloved; I may even develop an imbalanced view of myself as one who is never capable of satisfying the expectations of my parents, and concomitantly, I may develop a view of my parents as being hard taskmasters whom I do not want to engage lest they further belittle me for my constant inability.

I suppose this may be one reason why some teenage children disengage from their parents after a certain age. They may not articulate it, but I suspect one contributing reason is that they do not feel accepted by their parents for who they are; and in contrast, their peers do not criticize them but make them feel very accepted in their midst. As parents, I guess we must be very careful not to let our children feel that they are inadequate for us until they do or achieve such and such things. But often, unwittingly, we do this very thing by our over-critical stance towards them - everything from clothing to language to behavior. While we surely desire them to make progress in every aspect of their lives, I think we ought to be careful that our love for them is not conditioned upon what they are or what they do. Rather, we should send this message constantly to them: we love them simply because they are our children.

I now consciously try not to be over-critical of my children. I find myself often choosing the 'right battles to fight' with them. I also try to give more praise when they are praiseworthy. It is not easy for me. My parents never praised me.