Quantity, not Quality

Quality time.  What a terrible concept.  Nothing like sending the message to your son that the fifteen minutes you spent having a catch make up for not having seen him in three days because you decided to work late one day, go drinking after work the next, and spent the next recovering before going back to work on Monday.  Better be careful; one day you’ll wake up as the character in a Harry Chapin song.

I can’t remember the first time I heard about spending quality time with someone.  I suppose I was just a kid, and it didn’t mean that much to me at the time.  I suspect that’s because I had two wonderful parents.  I won’t say that they didn’t have their own lives, but I honestly don’t think I was ever lacking for parental company.  Mom and dad were always there for me, even if it was to do nothing in particular.  For kids growing up seeing a parent whenever possible, and having quality time may have been the only option.  I have friends that were in that position.  Looking back I think that I never considered that odd, but perspectives change.  I wish for those friends that they could have been in the situation not to need quality, but had the chance to get quantity.  Sometimes that’s all it takes.

My boys and I spend a lot of time together.  Sometimes I’m sure they wish it wasn’t so much; but better that than grade school one day, then blinking only to find them going off to college.  We run the gambit of activities.  Sports, games (both video and board), family outings, etc.  All that, in some context, could be considered quality time.  However, trumping that quality is the other times when we do the most mundane things, whether that is to just sit and watch The Simpsons, hang out on the patio and read, or sit together and tackle some tricky homework.  Quantity time.  It's in these times we get to know each other.

Some of my fondest memories from a very early age are of doing nothing particularly special with my parents.  I remember walking through Berlin Park with my mom, and laying in the backyard one summer night with my dad and talking about the stars.  Not tantalizing, to be sure, but it made me feel good.  Made me start to realize, subconsciously, what it meant to be a good parent.  They continue even today.  Just this week I spent a few hours with dad smoking a cigar, playing chess and discussing gardening and some good books.  If your life is one in which these things didn’t (or don’t) happen, I sympathize. 

Maybe the best thing about Quantity Time is that it lets your kids know that they are special all the time.  I don’t want to discount a trip to an amusement park, or a big present, or tickets to a Phillies game.  These things are fantastic for everyone.  But think about it.  Eventually, if you only do things with the kiddies that are as much for you as for them, won’t they feel that their lives aren’t enough for you?  I might be reading too much into this one, but I think I’m on the right track.

Do nothing once in a while.  You’ll be surprised how often that nothing turns into a lasting memory for you and your child.  They don’t need to be constantly entertained.  Sometimes the best thing you can do is let them feel that dad is there.  Go out of your way to just be around more often than you think is required.  The minute you start to qualify the time you spend with your kids you start to qualify them as well.  Don’t do it.  They are too important.

That is all

Ralston Has Spoken

Two Paths Diverged...I Hope I Didn't Miss It

     This week’s lesson is actually a question to myself.  I wonder sometimes if my personal beliefs get in the way of me being the best parent I can be.  Does me sticking to my philosophical guns short change my kids sometimes?  The short answer is, of course, yes.  I suppose that means the complicated answer is maybe.  Now this is riveting stuff, I know, but bear with me.

     Upon reflecting on some events from the past several years, I actually find myself questioning the validity of some of the ways my kids are raised.  This doesn’t sit well with me because I like to think I’m doing a bang up job.  However, what if there is a better path?  Just because I happen not to believe something doesn’t mean it isn’t right for my kids.  After all, I have embraced things my parents would have dismissed.  I have shrugged off certain ideals that I know my parents held true.  And I turned out darn near perfect.

    This all started when my boys were cub scouts.  I actually think scouting is a pretty good organization, but I can’t get away from the overly Christian, quite homophobic attitudes that still permeate the whole group.  So I did nothing to keep my boys from leaving the order when they asked if they could.  A little part of me didn’t want them in that clan.  But they did meet new friends and had a relatively fun time while participating.  I suppose the fact that they lost interest on their own says that being involved in it wasn’t their particular cup of tea.  However, what if I gently nudged one of them to stick with it through Boy Scouts and onto Eagle Scout?  What if that decision would have opened up a life path that I cannot foresee, but would have truly been wonderful?

    A more current example would be our lack of involvement in the church, or rather any religious organization.  I simply don’t believe in it any longer.  I was raised Catholic.  And I don’t think there is anything actually wrong with the teachings of the church; do unto others, thou shalt not kill, and all that.  However, I personally think that organized religion is a joke.  Do I need a white robed Sheppard to tell me it’s bad to steal, or kill, or covet another’s wife?  Well, maybe the wife thing – I have some really hot friends, but come on.  So because of my personal beliefs my sons will need to make their own decision about religion when they are old enough to do that.

    I suppose that since I’m the parent it’s easy to say that I am always doing what is best for the kids.  But what I’m really doing is making them live by what I think is best for me.  And it’s not that I’m denying them the chance to do anything they express an interest in, or pushing them to hard toward things I may like.  My job as a parent is just to give them room to grow, to provide guidance when needed, to nurture interests, and to shape their philosophy.  I know they will be independent enough to mold their own set of values as they grow up, but that will start with the lump of ethical clay I provide.

    When it comes down to it, I realize that we all just try to give our children what they need as they need it and hope it’s the right stuff at the time.  This business of being responsible for another’s life just really gets my second-guessing juices flowing sometimes.  I don’t think I would changes the way I raise my kids, but I don’t think it hurts to ask “what if” sometimes.  What if certain experiences would be good for them in the long run but I’ve denied it because of my own personal beliefs?  What if my talent as a bass player (hehe) is what made my son choose the upright bass in the school orchestra when he was destined to play oboe instead?  What if I’m not pushing them enough in one area (athletics or chess or writing) because I want them to be well rounded, when they could go on to greater heights in one specific arena?  What if, what if, what if.  I drive myself nuts some days.

    I know this is not the definitive article you have come to know and love from this series.  Never fear.  I’ll be back to that soon enough.  Just wanted to let everyone out there know that I may have all the answers, and I be where you turn (rightly so) for advice on any number of topics, but I am after all human.  I’ll come to terms with this particular chink in my armor soon enough.  Until then…

RALSTON HAS SPOKEN

THAT IS ALL

Just ONE Piece of the Puzzle....Maybe

Why do you have kids?  I ask this because I'm not really sure why I have kids.  I always swore I wouldn't have any until I could figure out for myself why I wanted any.  Never could nail that down, but here I am with two great boys.  Wouldn't trade them for the world, would give my life for them, blah, blah, blah. But it still makes me scratch my head sometimes.  Had a great childhood, so guess I just wanted to replicate my childhood and the family I grew up in. Don’t know.  Not the point.

Brings me to my point that children should not be, in my humble opinion, what makes you happy at your core.  I'm not saying they shouldn't bring happiness.  Of course they should.  But if you say having kids is what creates the primary happiness in your life, then I say some self examination is in order. I've never understood people who longed so much for kids that they felt incomplete without them. Is that really a good reason to have children? "Hey, I know what should make me a happier person. I'll start a new life. So what if it doesn't work and I'm still hollow afterward, at least I'll only be messing up just my own life."  I assume no snide remark is needed to illustrate that stupidity.

I contend that what makes you happy, or maybe more accurately "complete", should NOT be your kids.  Is it fair to you or the new bundle of joy that you assume bringing a child into the world is what might make you whole?  What if it doesn't work?  What if, after your third kid, you still have that part of your soul that isn't overflowing with rapture?  Then you've truly fucked five lives.  It's just not right.

Let me take another moment to clarify before you fire up your email.  I love my kids.  I derive great pleasure from my children.  I would give my life (and yours) for them.  But I never felt that my life needed to have the addition of caring for a child to make it whole.  Hell, for most of my life I avoided kids at all cost.  Still do most of the time.  So you may be seeing me in a duplicitous light about now.  That’s OK, because I feel it sometimes.  If chance, or choice, would have dictated that I never had kids I believe to my core that I would be just as happy, just as complete, as I am now.  “How can that be?” you may ask.  It’s because your sense of self, sense of worth, sense of life needs to be generated primarily from yourself.  If you cannot feel whole alone, then how can true happiness come from a self fulfilling prophecy – I mean child.

Back to the debate at hand.  I suppose I think about it like this….  Say you’ve always wanted kids.  You think children are the future; you believe we should teach them and let them lead the way; that we need to show them all the beauty they posses inside.  UGH!  God, what pap. 

If you happen to feel that the sun of your life, of your meaning and purpose, rises and sets with (and because of) your kids, what do you say to someone who does not have any?  Say your best friend has chosen not to have kids, or that friend is unable to have kids.  I frankly don’t think it matters either way, but how do you feel toward that person assuming your life is better?

Guess what, your life is NOT better.  Not for that one reason.  I have friends that don’t have kids and if god came down today and told me we were going to go back and start again but switch paths, I think I’d be OK with that – THE HORROR!!!  “Did he say he’d give up his kids?  Would he let someone have his children?  How could he live without the?  No, no, no.  Think about it.  Would you be, REALLY be, less satisfied without your kids; if you never had them in the first place?  I think it’s just a different kind of happiness.  Different avenues of life would/could get explored.  Different hardships to overcome.  Different choices to make.

Being willing to give my life for my kids does not mean I can’t imagine a life having never had them.  If you can’t; my sympathies.  I truly think you need to expand your life’s awareness.

That is all.

Ralston Has Spoken.