I'll Second That!

Carin is one of the many brave mothers out there in Internet land I've not met and most likely never will. Her son, Ben, died from cancer at the tender age of 3 1/2 years. Several weeks ago, she "climbed on her soapbox" and posted an entry on her website entitled battle hymn of a bereaved mother (please click and read it) referring to the recently published and highly promoted book by Amy Chua. I applauded Carin's post and told her to get right back up on that soapbox because the Tiger Mom's presence everywhere had caused my own blood to boil. Carin's insightful viewpoint as the mother of young children has left me considering the subject from my position as the parent of grown children.

If I dig back in my memory bank, to what seems like so long ago when our children were very small and I was a young mother trying to nurture these impressionable young minds, I remember reading the works of the gurus of the time - Benjamin Spock, T. Berry Brazelton, etc. and their Gospels of Appropriate Childrearing, hoping to glean wisdom about the important task before me. We have to do this right, Dave! I also clearly recall the advice of the neighbor down the street who'd told me those books were good for one thing. Stack them on the chair and use them as a booster seat. Go with what your gut tells you instead. Use your own common sense. When they get older, let them find their way. They'll turn out just fine. ~ said that mother of those nine children who grew up and became a lawyer, an architect, a graphic artist, a mom, a teacher... I'm sure this woman had neither the time nor the inclination to stand over each of them for hours on end, crack the whip and demand perfection. Excellence and perfection.

In a nutshell, Dave and I adopted the parenting style Mrs Chua refers to as Westernized and weak-willed, and I now say an enthusiastic, Hallelujah!

When they were very young we read to our children,

taught them basic, appropriate manners and then sent them off to school.

As they grew and their individual personality traits and inherent abilities became more prominent, each was encouraged to participate in studies in which they presented natural aptitude and join activities that held personal interest. They were always told - do your best, and each child's best varied from one to the next. One studied history and another leaned toward the sciences. One played the trombone, another played the guitar with a band, one took piano lessons and a couple sang in the school chorus.

(Matt with Brad Corrigan from Dispatch)

All were athletes. They achieved honor roll status in school, recognitions for scholastic accomplishments (even while undergoing cancer treatment) and MVP awards. They graduated from high school and were all accepted into fine, upstanding colleges - the ones of their choice.

Through the years they also made errors in judgement, impulsive peer-pressured decisions and downright stupid mistakes, and we insisted they atone for their indiscretions and then right themselves accordingly. When the situation required it there were consequences for not doing their best, they were punished for breaking house rules and privileges were removed accordingly. At times, they couldn't stand us.

Were we the perfect parents? Lord no!

And, when all is said and done, I have to say Dave and I are the proud parents of very imperfect children IF they're measured by Mrs. Chua's standards; however, her authoritarian parenting style doesn't interest me in the least. I can honestly say it never did, but especially now that the youngest of our very imperfect children is buried in Bronswood Cemetery I find myself feeling even more grateful for not having bought into the spinning level of near paranoia of some of my parenting contemporaries. What if she isn't on the honor roll this quarter? What if he doesn't get into this school? What if she doesn't make the top team?

What if she gets cancer and dies and you've WASTED all that time standing over her demanding only perfection and punishing her for anything less, when instead you could have developed a loving relationship, with the peace of that bond now providing a measure of sanity through the sleepless nights when the only thing you want to do is wrap your arms around her again??!!!

When Erin first exhibited signs that something was terribly wrong, one symptom was an aversion to food with a resulting dramatic weight-loss. We'd initially thought she was putting so much pressure on herself to make the top volleyball team during the crucial college recruiting year that she was making herself sick in the process. We'd emphatically told her she didn't need to earn a Division I scholarship and had insisted she give up the sport if it was causing this much distress. Erin maintained this wasn't the case.

She was right. It was cancer.

Through the years, I've watched controlling parents pressure their children to the point that those imposing demands ultimately caused alcohol and drug addictions, dangerous acts of rebellion and even nervous breakdowns when those kids were in college or beginning life after. Do some succeed when fostered in this environment? Sure. Perhaps more than I realize. Define the word succeed. Are they happy? Does their happiness even matter to these parents, or is it all about excellence and status? What defines personal satisfaction? I've seen many athletes pushed to extremes by parents who were living their own dreams through their children. These kids totally burn out physically and emotionally, and then struggle to find their way when their sports careers end because for years they'd been forced to focus on little else.

As Carin says in her post, we mothers who have watched our children suffer the wreckage caused by cancer and then hold them as they die before our very eyes are not who we once were, and many of our priorities have changed. We have increased sensitivity about many things, and what we may have viewed as important at one time holds little meaning when up against the slap-in-the-face realization that fine becomes NOT FINE in the blink of an eye.

Personally, Erin's suffering and death have caused the significance of so many other things in my life to pale in comparison. Understandably, the majority of mothers don't have that perspective, and I honestly can say I wish I could somehow give some of the more self-righteous ones like Mrs Chua a dose of it for perhaps they'd become more grounded in their expectations and treatment of other human beings, aka their children. Withholding food? "Garbage"?

I care that my living children are healthy, safe, accountable, kind, honest, employed, responsive to the needs of others and happy doing whatever it is they choose to do... period. Perhaps in the eyes of Amy Chua, and others like her, those requisites are woefully trite and in direct contrast with the status-driven pursuit of the best grades, ensuring the finest schools, with the ultimate goal of attaining the highest salary, the biggest house, the most expensive car... and perhaps the coldest and most shallow of hearts.

I have to wonder if Sophia and Lulu have ever been encouraged to cut their hair for Locks of Love, if Sophia donates blood regularly or Lulu ever participates in a fundraising event like a Relay for Life. I wonder if they've ever met a child/teen with cancer. These thoughts are most likely not even a blip on the radar of Mrs Chua's "virtuous circle that yields satisfaction" because these acts don't involve "winning prizes that give you opportunities". They just make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside cuz you know you've done a really great thing!

There are many examples of Mrs Chua's treatment of her daughters that infuriate me, and one that breaks my heart was her refusal to accept the handmade birthday card from her daughter, expecting a drawing that Lulu "had put some thought and effort into" and telling her, "I don't want this. I deserve better than this. So I reject this." I think of the boxes containing treasures my children have made for me over the years, with their crooked sketches and misspelled words with upside down letters. Things I wouldn't part with for anything. And I now cherish any scrap of paper I stumble upon unexpectedly that has Erin's handwriting on it ~ a little piece that is a tangible connection to her having once walked this earth.

Mrs. Chua certainly would have rejected my recent valentine boat to Erin; made from a sheet of computer paper, sticky hearts from the local craft store, with the simple words, "for a moment, erin" written on the inside. I wonder what she would have said to me if she'd found me sitting in the wet snow that day, watching my boat float down the river, weeping.

<3 <3 <3

Phew!  Like Carin, I feel a bit better after releasing some steam through my rant. And, perhaps this morning I'm also bursting with a keen sense of pride because ~

I'll bet her daughters can't do this!

Life is short, so you're right, Erin. 
Have fun!