What a Good One
When I was born, they looked at me and said,
“What a good boy, what a smart boy, what a strong boy.”
And when you were born, they looked at you and said,
“What a good girl, what a smart girl, what a pretty girl.”
I think so much lately about my child’s future — what will they become? What will they do with life and its challenges and rewards? I know I will serve a vital yet short role in this and the best I can do is to direct, sustain, nurture, and advise; past that, they are still their own to direct in the long run. I find this concept a bit stranger than most, as other aspects of my life I have full control over and call the shots in all aspects, whereas with children, my control starts out absolute and slowly dwindles away over the years until there is but a faint influence, if any, and I am once again released to my own devices.
We’ve got these chains that hang around our necks
People want to strangle us with them before we take our first breath.
Afraid of change, afraid of staying the same,
When temptation calls, we just look away.
I wonder how much we express upon children as they are born; every child is cute, every child is smart, every child is good — until proven guilty. We start with a cup full of possibilities and expectations that are set upon each child and only they can empty from that vessel of hope. And yet, at the same time, we fully expect them to be tabula rasa, the blank slate, open and willing to soak up their environment and influences. Is our expectation misplaced? Should the pressure instead be upon the parents and other people who are the influences in this child’s life rather than the child itself? It is no wonder that parents take the successes and failures of their children personally, although I believe that one must factor in the preparation the child had for that particular action and weigh that with their maturity to derive who should be responsible for the result of the actions.
I go to school, I write exams,
If I pass, if I fail, if I drop out,
Does anyone give a damn?
And if they do, they’ll soon forget cause it wont take much for me
To show my life ain’t over yet.
Schooling of a child is so hard; they’re expected to absorb so much for so long and the system is designed to reward the middle to upper levels and the lower ones are left to make their own means through the system, often stumbling and scratching to do so. Yet, the smartest of the bunch will fail in other areas, leaving behind social and interpersonal skills in favor of the almighty top mark. In the end, in a professional setting, schooling matters little and knowledge matters much, so I often ask myself how I will attempt to not only direct my child in his/her studies but also in the skills that will benefit them long into their adult years. So much is lost from the books; much that is retained is practical, yet one has to strike a balance between the two. My role as a parent will fall precariously in between to ensure my child is neither over-run with their studies nor malnourished.
I wake up scared, I wake up strange.
I wake up wondering if anything in my life is ever going to change.
I wake up scared, I wake up strange
And everything around me stays the same.
I am still getting used to this idea of being a parent, a father, and sometimes I am wreaked by fear of my inability to do so and other times I just feel odd at best, not really sure if this is my life or the life of someone else that I am living, as I rarely feel like I am of my current age, placement in life, or the maturity and wisdom to be a father figure. And yet, at the same time, I know that I am settled and solid in many ways to handle this; my insecurities and uncertainties will be solved out of range of my child’s knowledge and perception, and they are quite forgiving if the intent is well-placed and exercised. I hope for all in the world that my child will never regret what I have tried to give him/her and the love that went along with it. I can only hope on this.
I couldn’t tell you that I was wrong,
Chickened out, grabbed a pen and paper, sat down and I wrote this song.
I couldn’t tell you that you were right,
So instead I looked in the mirror,
Watched TV, laid awake all night.
I wonder what points my wife and I will agree upon and which ones we will clash on when it comes to directing this child. So far, we agree on much — our backgrounds and parenting observations have told us similar things, and we have often talked to each other about our perspective. So this lends to good feelings about the future, but I often muse about that which we have not yet foreseen — will we be able to resolve it? I always think so, as we have struggled through so much and made so many successes in our relationship to date, this should be yet another one. But I cannot allow myself to not pay attention to this and keep on my toes, lest I mistake something.
This name is the hairshirt I wear
And this hairshirt is woven from your brown hair.
This song is the cross that I bear,
Bear it with me, bear with me, bear with me, be with me tonight,
I know that it isn’t right, but be with me tonight.
There are so many expectations placed upon us by our families, friends, community members, etc. Some are harder to bear; others are easier, but all will influence us in some way or another, and I wonder how we will plough our own furrow in the field, combining and taking what wisdoms we feel are correct; discarding the ones that do not fit our world-view. So much is borne with our names and our placings within these families and communities, yet we cannot allow them to control and subvert, only to suggest and observe. I have a feeling that we will be bucking these things much throughout our parenting careers. Right or wrong, we owe the best to our child, bar none.
When I was born, they looked at me and said;
“What a good boy, what a smart boy, what a strong boy.”
And when you were born, they looked at you and said;
“What a good girl, what a smart girl, what a pretty girl.” Hey?
So many considerations, so many decisions, so many thoughts and ideas. May we both be granted the power and wisdom to chose the best and brightest of them all.
(Lyrics taken from “What a Good Boy” by Barenaked Ladies. Video here.)
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