The Simplicities of Childhood

All of us are damaged during childhood........Parents almost always do the most damage................I heard these lines somewhere, not quite sure where though. Oprah. Dr. Phil. Really can't remember.

In fear of screwing up my own kids, I end up reading a lot of self help books, watching a lot of Oprah and attending parenting seminars everytime an opportunity presents itself. I had the privilege of attending a parenting seminar a couple of days ago. I was struck by one of the speakers, Fr. Rudy Fernandez, S.J., who said that "experience is not completed until it becomes a memory". So true. . . . . . Try as I might, I try to recollect happy childhood memories. . . . . . . . I think I have only about 5 . . . . . . . What if the memories I have of my childhood weren't as pleasant as I would like them to have been? Does that mean I had a terrible childhood? Or is it just hindsight, when many unhappy experiences have distorted the simplicities of childhood?

I know what you're thinking and the answer is NO, I was not a battered child. Nor was I abandoned. My parents are just passive. Really passive. As in, no bedtime stories, if you want one, read it yourself. If you want dinner, cook it yourself. I you get a booboo from playing outside, disinfect it yourself. If you want a pat on the back for doing something good, by all means, do it yourself. The only way to get any attention was to get into trouble, and that I did quite frequently.

Although I hate to admit it, we do end up adapting parenting styles used on us. No matter how we would always say the we will never do this, or I'll never be like her, or I'll never let that happen to my kid, we end up with almost the same pattern. How else would I know how to do it? My solution was to the opposite of what my parents did, i.e., spending almost all of my waking hours with them, even spoonfeeding them till age 8. So I end up on the other end of the spectrum and smother them which I don't think is good either.

I love my parents and I know that I have a lot to be thankful for despite their shortcomings. Maybe that's how they were raised in the first place. Maybe their experiences as kids weren't as pleasant either. Or maybe their memories weren't as lyrical as they would liked to have them to have been.

But one thing I know for sure, I was loved...............