Lessons Learned from 13 Years of Parenting
Many say, and I agree, that parenting is one of the most challenging and fulfilling experiences one can have. Very few experiences shaped and stretched and transformed me in the past 13 years better than parenting did.
I am sure these lessons could be learned somewhere else, but it was as a parent that I learned these lessons with more depth and meaning. The lessons are endless as everyday, every encounter with my son, offers an opportunity to learn and grow, but here are some of the standouts.
Everything passes, and this one too shall pass. Whether it's a good time or a bad one, it will one day pass. I repeat this statement to myself as a mantra especially when my anxieties as a mother would start getting the better of me, and most especially when Enzo was sick. As an asthmatic, Enzo would have frequent trips to the hospital. Between the ages of 3 and 9, he must have been confined to the hospital at least once a year so that we had grown familiar to old timers among the hospital staff. How easy it was for me to get rattled each time Enzo showed signs of being unwell. Over the years though I had learned that one could not stay in the hospital forever. The illness would pass; wellness and illness both are parts of life. It is not just bad times that pass though. Good times also pass. Knowing this challenges me to savor every moment instead of giving in to the tendency to rush things and focus on what needs to be done. Beautiful and warm moments can slip by so fast, sometimes without us noticing it. It is very important then to be "present to the moment" and be in the here-and-now with my son during our sacred times together.
Live and let live. Once when Enzo was around 4 years old and was old enough to dress up by himself, I couldn't stop myself from making a comment about his clothes as the colors didn't blend well. I was struck by his response: "Bakit, nanay, hindi ko naman pinapakialaman ang damit mo?" I was caught unaware. My thought bubble said something like, "isn't he too young for such a response?" Yet, I also realized that that was the price I had to pay for raising a critical thinking son. There are many opportunities to learn this as a parent particularly when I start thinking that I know better. Yet, if I am to recognize that my son, or any person for that matter, is a wonderful creature handmade by God, I realize that others' ways and preferences are as good as mine. It doesn't mean I relinquish my role as a guide and teacher, but I need to constantly check myself whether things I find difficult to accept are so because these are inherently bad or simply because these are different from what I want or how I want things to be. Once it is clear that the difference is just a product of our unique personalities, I let down my guard and just allow each of us to choose that which comes closest to our unique nature. Whatever he becomes, as the TV commercial said, "suportahan ta ka!" I guess that's the way to go if we want our children to be their own person, to become the person that God has meant for them to be.
It is not always the action but the impact of the act that matters the most. Once when Enzo was about 7 years old and we were in the middle of one of those busy mornings when he was preparing for school and I was getting ready to leave for a workshop, he kept nagging me about not leaving until he was done with his morning rituals. Despite my assurances that I would wait for him to finish, he continued to nag me. Exasperated, I asked him, "Bakit anak, kailan ba ako umalis nang hindi nagpapaalam sa iyo?" His response stupefied me. "Noong 3 years old ako. Umalis ka habang natutulog ako." Yes, I was guilty! When I had seminars, I would leave before 6 AM in order to escape the morning rush. Not wanting to disturb his sleep (and, honestly, sometimes to save on time for long goodbyes), I would leave without saying goodbye. I realized from Enzo's remark that, while my intention was generally good, my action still had a negative impact on him. He took it as some kind of a breach of trust - that I would always goodbye properly. Mind-reading and assuming just don't have a role to play in any relationship, especially in a parent-child relationship. Just because a child is not complaining, it doesn't mean everything is fine. It always pays to ask and to look at underlying reasons for their behaviors which may actually be reactions to ours.
To be able to bend without breaking, one needs to be malleable enough. When his father and I decided to part ways as a couple, we tried to do everything we could to prepare Enzo for the impending crisis and to manage the impact it would have on him. Although I knew there was no way I could make this a painless experience for him, I also believed that with adequate preparation (including honesty) and support, he would somehow manage things. Yet, I couldn't help being anxious as I knew that it would be a major blow for him. Two days after his father finally left our home, I told Enzo that he could already move his clothes and stuff from his baby chest to his father's cabinet. He let out a loud cry and started saying "Kasi naman" over and over again. "Kasi naman" was his generic expression of pain and frustration back then. I knew that no amount of explanation would help at that point so I just held his hand and stayed with him while he expressed his pain through tears and words and kicking. After about 30 minutes, he finally stopped. He smiled and said, "Ayan, malaki na ang cabinet ko. Halika na, ayunsin na natin." This would happen many other times over big or trivial things. He would howl and kick and shout but afterwards, he would be OK. Many times I wish that I am as resilient as Enzo. I realize though that to be so I also need to allow myself to go through moments of vulnerability - of howling like a dog, kicking like an angry horse, or whimpering like a cat - instead of always trying to always be in control of myself and my emotions. Resilience seems to be one of the rewards of allowing oneself to experience and express the full range of one's emotions.
Raising a child is not a science; it is an art. Armed with the theories of developmental psychology and naturopathic medicine, I vowed to raise Enzo in the most perfect way I could. It was to be an alternative parenting approach. He was fully breastfed until his 5th month when I started introducing some solids and continued to be breastfed until he was 18 months. (Who said that there is a correlation between breast size and milk supply?!?) He was to stay away from processed food except when these are made from organically grown and natural ingredients. No baby-talk. No rubber pacifiers. No baby powder. There were a lot of no's and should's. It almost looked like a big experiment. But then, nature came in with a big swat. At age 3, he started to have asthma attacks. How could that be when I tried to do everything right? And then there would be other blows that would follow. Reflecting on things, those were mere imperfections of Enzo, human being that he is, and blows to my rigid ego. I would learn every time a blow comes that parenting is not about doing everything perfectly in a measured and calculated way. Parenting is more about being able to flow with the call of any given moment and doing what one believes to be right without being attached to expected outcomes. It is more like an art - a little of this and that put together and trusting that there is no single truth and outcome. Whatever the outcome, it is meant to be and it can be beautiful if we see with non-judgmental and appreciative eyes.
Don't sweat the small stuff. The perfectionist that I am, I am to learn particularly in parenting, that many things that I consider necessary don't actually matter as long as they don't hurt myself or others. There is joy in doing things from scratch and the traditional way - a homemade gift, chicken teriyaki cooked from scratch, spotless housecleaning, ironing every single item we wear. However, when doing these things become more burdensome rather than joyful and fulfilling experiences, I guess the call is for us to check our motivations and values. Some months after the Ondoy tragedy, Enzo said, "Nanay, ang isa sa pinakamasayang araw ko ay noong September 26, 2009." I thought it had something to do with my birthday. I had another blow when I heard his response: "Kasi finally nakakain na ako ng instant noodles." He was spending the weekend with his father who was residing in Marikina then and they had instant noodles for dinner at the second floor of their apartment. No, there still isn't room for instant noodles in my household but I give in to occasional Jollibee and softdrink binges. With no househelp for almost a year now, I have also learned to let go of a lot of shoulds, including a bedroom that should be cleaned every single day. I think being a fun parent is more important and attainable than being a perfect parent.
I am a proud and happy mother but I am more than that. I remember how, as hands-on mothers, some of my college friends and I would jokingly say that the best part of being a mother is during the pregnancy stage. We would say this during times when we felt fatigued by the demands of being hands-on mothers of toddlers whose needs and wants just far outweighed our energies. No, we weren't complaining. We were simply experiencing what every normal parent occasionally does. I gave up so many things for motherhood and there was never a single moment that I regretted doing so. However, at some point, I felt like I was overdoing things. On reflection, I would realize that some of the things I did I actually did not only out of love but also because of the need to prove myself a better parent than my parents were. It was reactive parenting. This was affirmed by the fact that my body was beginning to cave in. Partly, it was developmental but mainly it was because I had given up so much that I felt I had no more to give. I also needed to drink from my other wells, that is, from wells other than the motherhood well. I needed to nurture the other aspects of myself. I started running seminars again. I took a storybook writing workshop. I nurtured my passion for trauma work. I resumed my social life not out of obligation but for genuine bonding and nourishment. I gave myself permission to buy things for myself without guilt. I was a happier person and therefore a happier mother.
I know there are more lessons to learn especially as my son moves into adolescence. The new challenges seem daunting. I can only say this little prayer by Reinhold Niebuhr:
I am sure these lessons could be learned somewhere else, but it was as a parent that I learned these lessons with more depth and meaning. The lessons are endless as everyday, every encounter with my son, offers an opportunity to learn and grow, but here are some of the standouts.
Everything passes, and this one too shall pass. Whether it's a good time or a bad one, it will one day pass. I repeat this statement to myself as a mantra especially when my anxieties as a mother would start getting the better of me, and most especially when Enzo was sick. As an asthmatic, Enzo would have frequent trips to the hospital. Between the ages of 3 and 9, he must have been confined to the hospital at least once a year so that we had grown familiar to old timers among the hospital staff. How easy it was for me to get rattled each time Enzo showed signs of being unwell. Over the years though I had learned that one could not stay in the hospital forever. The illness would pass; wellness and illness both are parts of life. It is not just bad times that pass though. Good times also pass. Knowing this challenges me to savor every moment instead of giving in to the tendency to rush things and focus on what needs to be done. Beautiful and warm moments can slip by so fast, sometimes without us noticing it. It is very important then to be "present to the moment" and be in the here-and-now with my son during our sacred times together.
Live and let live. Once when Enzo was around 4 years old and was old enough to dress up by himself, I couldn't stop myself from making a comment about his clothes as the colors didn't blend well. I was struck by his response: "Bakit, nanay, hindi ko naman pinapakialaman ang damit mo?" I was caught unaware. My thought bubble said something like, "isn't he too young for such a response?" Yet, I also realized that that was the price I had to pay for raising a critical thinking son. There are many opportunities to learn this as a parent particularly when I start thinking that I know better. Yet, if I am to recognize that my son, or any person for that matter, is a wonderful creature handmade by God, I realize that others' ways and preferences are as good as mine. It doesn't mean I relinquish my role as a guide and teacher, but I need to constantly check myself whether things I find difficult to accept are so because these are inherently bad or simply because these are different from what I want or how I want things to be. Once it is clear that the difference is just a product of our unique personalities, I let down my guard and just allow each of us to choose that which comes closest to our unique nature. Whatever he becomes, as the TV commercial said, "suportahan ta ka!" I guess that's the way to go if we want our children to be their own person, to become the person that God has meant for them to be.
It is not always the action but the impact of the act that matters the most. Once when Enzo was about 7 years old and we were in the middle of one of those busy mornings when he was preparing for school and I was getting ready to leave for a workshop, he kept nagging me about not leaving until he was done with his morning rituals. Despite my assurances that I would wait for him to finish, he continued to nag me. Exasperated, I asked him, "Bakit anak, kailan ba ako umalis nang hindi nagpapaalam sa iyo?" His response stupefied me. "Noong 3 years old ako. Umalis ka habang natutulog ako." Yes, I was guilty! When I had seminars, I would leave before 6 AM in order to escape the morning rush. Not wanting to disturb his sleep (and, honestly, sometimes to save on time for long goodbyes), I would leave without saying goodbye. I realized from Enzo's remark that, while my intention was generally good, my action still had a negative impact on him. He took it as some kind of a breach of trust - that I would always goodbye properly. Mind-reading and assuming just don't have a role to play in any relationship, especially in a parent-child relationship. Just because a child is not complaining, it doesn't mean everything is fine. It always pays to ask and to look at underlying reasons for their behaviors which may actually be reactions to ours.
To be able to bend without breaking, one needs to be malleable enough. When his father and I decided to part ways as a couple, we tried to do everything we could to prepare Enzo for the impending crisis and to manage the impact it would have on him. Although I knew there was no way I could make this a painless experience for him, I also believed that with adequate preparation (including honesty) and support, he would somehow manage things. Yet, I couldn't help being anxious as I knew that it would be a major blow for him. Two days after his father finally left our home, I told Enzo that he could already move his clothes and stuff from his baby chest to his father's cabinet. He let out a loud cry and started saying "Kasi naman" over and over again. "Kasi naman" was his generic expression of pain and frustration back then. I knew that no amount of explanation would help at that point so I just held his hand and stayed with him while he expressed his pain through tears and words and kicking. After about 30 minutes, he finally stopped. He smiled and said, "Ayan, malaki na ang cabinet ko. Halika na, ayunsin na natin." This would happen many other times over big or trivial things. He would howl and kick and shout but afterwards, he would be OK. Many times I wish that I am as resilient as Enzo. I realize though that to be so I also need to allow myself to go through moments of vulnerability - of howling like a dog, kicking like an angry horse, or whimpering like a cat - instead of always trying to always be in control of myself and my emotions. Resilience seems to be one of the rewards of allowing oneself to experience and express the full range of one's emotions.
Raising a child is not a science; it is an art. Armed with the theories of developmental psychology and naturopathic medicine, I vowed to raise Enzo in the most perfect way I could. It was to be an alternative parenting approach. He was fully breastfed until his 5th month when I started introducing some solids and continued to be breastfed until he was 18 months. (Who said that there is a correlation between breast size and milk supply?!?) He was to stay away from processed food except when these are made from organically grown and natural ingredients. No baby-talk. No rubber pacifiers. No baby powder. There were a lot of no's and should's. It almost looked like a big experiment. But then, nature came in with a big swat. At age 3, he started to have asthma attacks. How could that be when I tried to do everything right? And then there would be other blows that would follow. Reflecting on things, those were mere imperfections of Enzo, human being that he is, and blows to my rigid ego. I would learn every time a blow comes that parenting is not about doing everything perfectly in a measured and calculated way. Parenting is more about being able to flow with the call of any given moment and doing what one believes to be right without being attached to expected outcomes. It is more like an art - a little of this and that put together and trusting that there is no single truth and outcome. Whatever the outcome, it is meant to be and it can be beautiful if we see with non-judgmental and appreciative eyes.
Don't sweat the small stuff. The perfectionist that I am, I am to learn particularly in parenting, that many things that I consider necessary don't actually matter as long as they don't hurt myself or others. There is joy in doing things from scratch and the traditional way - a homemade gift, chicken teriyaki cooked from scratch, spotless housecleaning, ironing every single item we wear. However, when doing these things become more burdensome rather than joyful and fulfilling experiences, I guess the call is for us to check our motivations and values. Some months after the Ondoy tragedy, Enzo said, "Nanay, ang isa sa pinakamasayang araw ko ay noong September 26, 2009." I thought it had something to do with my birthday. I had another blow when I heard his response: "Kasi finally nakakain na ako ng instant noodles." He was spending the weekend with his father who was residing in Marikina then and they had instant noodles for dinner at the second floor of their apartment. No, there still isn't room for instant noodles in my household but I give in to occasional Jollibee and softdrink binges. With no househelp for almost a year now, I have also learned to let go of a lot of shoulds, including a bedroom that should be cleaned every single day. I think being a fun parent is more important and attainable than being a perfect parent.
I am a proud and happy mother but I am more than that. I remember how, as hands-on mothers, some of my college friends and I would jokingly say that the best part of being a mother is during the pregnancy stage. We would say this during times when we felt fatigued by the demands of being hands-on mothers of toddlers whose needs and wants just far outweighed our energies. No, we weren't complaining. We were simply experiencing what every normal parent occasionally does. I gave up so many things for motherhood and there was never a single moment that I regretted doing so. However, at some point, I felt like I was overdoing things. On reflection, I would realize that some of the things I did I actually did not only out of love but also because of the need to prove myself a better parent than my parents were. It was reactive parenting. This was affirmed by the fact that my body was beginning to cave in. Partly, it was developmental but mainly it was because I had given up so much that I felt I had no more to give. I also needed to drink from my other wells, that is, from wells other than the motherhood well. I needed to nurture the other aspects of myself. I started running seminars again. I took a storybook writing workshop. I nurtured my passion for trauma work. I resumed my social life not out of obligation but for genuine bonding and nourishment. I gave myself permission to buy things for myself without guilt. I was a happier person and therefore a happier mother.
I know there are more lessons to learn especially as my son moves into adolescence. The new challenges seem daunting. I can only say this little prayer by Reinhold Niebuhr:
God grant me the
serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.
Living one day
at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time. . . .
Enjoying one moment at a time. . . .
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