Conflabs with Myself: Children and Expectations

 

Conflabs with Myself

Most of us go through life following a certain or expected plan that had long been established for our life and growth within the familial line. What I mean is, most of us become programmed to follow a certain path. There is no wrong in that, but life throws curve balls into the mix to smash things up a bit. Mom or Pop was an athlete and little Johnny is absolutely not.  Mom or Pop is a fantastic cook and little Jenny burns toast but, little Johnny makes a mean Pasta Fagioli.  High School Jenny had the familial expectation to date a nice boy; she instead brings home nice Gina.  High School Johnny was taught that boys do not cry, they buck up and take it, but a bully sends him home in tears every day.  The same could happen with Jenny. These monkey wrenches in the life paths parents have long charted for their children can certainly cause great familial distress and discourse. 

When I was in my senior year of high school, my dad wanted to ask me a question he'd expected a "yes" to, but it did not work out that way.  His business was literally killing him, he wanted to retire, and when he asked me if I wanted to take the gear shift and reigns of the business, I emphatically declined.  That really hurt my dad's feelings, and once I matured enough, I realized that, and the pain I caused haunts me to this day.  Obviously, right?  I declined because I saw what it was doing to him and I did not want that to happen to me.  A dutiful son (like any of my cousins) would comply, as was the expectation. While I was not raised  a farm boy, I did work various farm jobs; when I was 7, 8 and nine, I picked up walnuts with my mom. Later, I worked in a vineyard.  I was very different, though, and it bothered my parents and sister, and it did so even after they passed away. I was expected to be much like my dad, but I am not a John Wayne clone.  My dad was very much like John Wayne: quiet, very manly, strong, skilled at everything. I can barely screw in a light bulb.   

I am not a John Wayne "Wah huh" stoic, he-man.  I am not a cis-man, either.  I had been married for 17 years, parent for much longer, and I know myself. I know my personal strengths, my academic strengths, and my career strengths.  I know my areas of opportunity, as well.  

The one thing I did do right throughout high school was to "run track".  I am the absolute worst at team sports. I am horrible.  I throw like a drunk monkey and run like a drunker orangutang. It is not pretty!  In track, however, it was just me competing (in my mind) with only me. I loved it and flourished. I was not nearly or even close to being the best, but I loved the various events, the conditioning, and my teammates were awesome.  I felt like I belonged for the first time in just about ever. Everyone should be allowed to feel that way. 

That brings me to this closing thought. It hurts me when I hear about kids, from middle school on up in age, who bravely tell their parents that life plans expected of them are not what the kid wants. Little Johnny was expected to become a lawyer and join dad's firm, but little Johnny wants to be a Chef.  Little Jenny was expected to be a teacher and marry a lawyer like her mother did, and live in a nice house with a dog and cat and raise a family.  But Little Jenny is in love with Gina and wants to move to a small North Carolina town and live in a small farmhouse and raise chickens and vegetables rather than children. 

Ask yourself right now, if these were your kids, how would you handle it?  Would the beliefs you grew up with blind your best loving judgment or would your heart open up and be proud of your children's accomplishments and life choices, however different they might be from yours and how you were raised? 

The verdict is still out with me.  So many complications.  But, my mom had always supported me, despite some stupid ass choices I had

made as an adult. I am blessed and grateful forever for that. 

I hope you would look past convention, expectation, and possible social embarrassment, and love your child and let them become the person they want to be, let them make mistakes and learn from them. Hey, if the Crawleys could live through Sybil marrying Tom, the chauffeur, you can live through a little social drama. At least, I hope so.  

Thank You for visiting my little blog. I appreciate your visit!  Stay tuned for a bit of a controversial conflab with myself tomorrow.  Happy Halloween!!!!