By: Carol Maxym Ph.D.
When I was a kid, I remember noticing that my parents used
my brother’s many successes as what I then called to myself “Parent Badges”. He was very smart, so that meant they were smart
also. He won all sorts of competitions,
so, in effect, they did, too. They
bragged about him whenever they could (particularly when they could seem not to
be bragging). For any of you who know I Love Lucy (and if you don’t know that
TV comedy series, I urge you to have a look at it. If you can watch one episode and not laugh gleefully,
please do let me know), you may remember the episodes where Lucy and Ricky get
into (or try to avoid) bragging competitions with their best friends about
which son is cuter and smarter and learning more things earlier.
I didn’t have so many overt successes as my brother, so I
didn’t provide much in the Parent Badge department. However when I did, I kept my triumphs to
myself because I couldn’t bear the thought of my parents using my successes as
their Parent Badges. Somehow it seemed to me to take away from my
hard work if they took it as their own.
Was I too sensitive? What do you
think?
As a mom, I shied away from talking about my kids very much
or carrying their photos because I couldn’t bear the idea that someone might
think I was bragging. I never even kept
photos in my office because I didn’t want to be asked questions that would lead
me to have to talk about my daughters who accomplished much. Perhaps I carried it all a bit too far.
Being a mom or a dad is about guiding and teaching and
loving and connecting, not getting or seeking validation for yourself. Perhaps ‘parenting’ has become something of a
competition—thinking back to I Love Lucy,
I guess it always was. Perhaps that is a
part of the reason I have never liked the verb “to parent.’ Your child desires your good opinion, your
praise—even if he/she doesn’t want to show it.
If you use your child’s success as your Parent Badge, you take away from the connection, the relationship
becomes it takes on a hint of contingency.
And then there is yet another aspect to the competition: things,
buying things. What happens to a
child’s self-respect, to his/her soul when your ability to provide more and
more things for status becomes a part of your child’s actual belief in his/her
self worth? Is any child better or
better off for having more things than other kids—or even for being able to
keep up with what other kids have or can get.
And, yes, I acknowledge that I am writing this in the midst of the
Christmas/Channukah buying season/frenzy.
When I talk to parents whose child is not doing well, they
often want to know if they are to blame for the problems. That is such a complex and complicated
question. Parents always make
mistakes—that’s jus a part of the deal.
Making mistakes is not the same as “causing” your child’s problems. And the opposite is also true. When your child succeeds at school or sports
or in the school play or the marching band, you’ve certainly helped but you
haven’t done it.
Being a parent is never about the parent. It’s always about the child. However that very specifically does not mean
that your child should become the center of your world or that you should teach
your child the false and dangerous belief that he/she is the center of the
world.
So, what’s the point here?
Perspective mainly, and the same
old thing I’ve written about so many times.
Being a mother or a father is about teaching, guiding, loving,
connecting. Being a parent isn’t about
the bragging rights but about helping your child learn to be a productive,
caring, generous, honest citizen (which is the best recipe for happiness I
know). However much you can help your
child to become that person, you gain [silent] bragging rights—and a little
peace and quiet in your later years.
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