I was sitting on the bus the other day, pretending to read, but actually indulging in my habit of eavesdropping. Two women with young children were talking with an older woman -- most likely the mother of one of them -- about the importance of providing one's offspring with a good example to follow. I kept my nose in my book and tried not to smile too sarcastically, but all the time I sat there, avidly following their conversation, I found myself dangerously close to snorting in indignation.
"It's not good enough, telling them to do it, you know?" one of the young mothers commented. You've got to set an example, like. So they'll know you do it too."
"Yeah," agreed her friend. "S'right."
Whereupon the older woman echoed their sentiments, providing an example of this from her own childrearing experience: she and her husband always got up early in the morning, and now their adult offspring were all early risers. She offered this commonplace with complete confidence.
Good thing I was sitting in front of them and they couldn't see my face. I couldn't really blame the younger women, whose children were still tiny, but the older woman had either had a damned easy time of it or one hell of a case of amnesia. If only it were that simple!
When my husband and I first started out, like all beginners, we were sure we would soon have a handle on this parenting lark. We saw so many examples of bad parents around us: people who let their kids run wild and paid them little attention; people who paid their children too much attention, following their every movement, monitoring their every activity. We frowned at the snotty-nosed brats in filthy tee shirts we saw creating scenes and the spoilt, coddled mamas boys and girls. We shook our heads over the parents who ceaselessly whined, nagged and issued threats and ultimatums. We knew that our children would be as confident and independent as they would be tidy, biddable, and well behaved. How could they help but be with our good examples to follow?
We now look back on this time and laugh at our naivete, but I have come to see that this innocent confidence is a good thing and perfectly natural. As has been frequently pointed out, if most prospective parents knew what lay in store for them, they would never pass the Rubicon and elect to procreate. Most normal people do not seek out torment and hard work; who in their right mind would agree to exchange comfort and well-being with guaranteed misery and an uncertain future? I am convinced that this blind assurance that we cannot fail -- that we may even do better than the ones who came before us -- is one of the things that keeps our species going.
And I'll tell you one thing: If our kids are learning from our example, we're having a little problem with a delayed reaction.
When they were tiny toddlers, I made a big point of teaching them how to put things away. I tried to make a game out of it: See? Mommy will put three away, you put one away. Unfortunately, as soon as they tired of this (and it never took long), Mommy ended up putting away the lot and nagging them non-stop. I worked hard to keep the house tidy, taking pains to point out to them what I was doing and how they could help -- to little avail. In no time, their toys and other belongings were scattered all over the house -- and my good example didn't amount to a hill of beans.
When they were still infants, I carefully chose toys for them that were safe, colorful, engaging, educational, and durable. By the time the kids were a couple of years old, my criteria for toy selection had been narrowed down considerably: How big a mess will that make? How bad will that hurt when I step on it in the middle of the night?
The bedroom I share with my husband is virtually pristine, largely through my efforts. Our kids like coming into our room and flopping down on the neatly made bed. They help themselves to items they cannot find in their own rooms but are always sure to be able to locate in mine: nail scissors, hairbrush, tweezers, stapler, and hand lotion. I am sorry to say that their own rooms -- which I refuse to have anything to do with -- are kept in a very different state. Once in a while, one of them plunges into such depths of chaotic squalor that we are forced to issue some ultimatum: Tidy that up or you can't... Nagging and threats, we have learned, tend to work better than positive role models. Still, I always point out how neat and tidy our room is, however pathetic and futile I know this is. Some day, I tell myself, some day they will see the light of our shining example.
The other day my eldest smugly told me about her plans to teach her children how to do the laundry. I smiled and said encouraging things. After all, you never know: she might just succeed.
