I don’t claim to be an expert in much. I probably know more than average about, say, psychopannychism in Victorian female poetry (google it – it’s really interesting). But I am definitely in the top two of leading world experts in the lives of our children.
I’ve been very lucky to be available for the majority of their waking hours (and for far too many of their supposed-to-be-sleeping hours) thus far. I’ve taken full maternity leaves and then only worked part time. So I’m around them a lot, caring for them through their early years, and now they’re all at school I still nearly always get to drop them off and pick them up again. So, we get to spend plenty of time together, with the unremarkable result that I know them well – I know their likes and dislikes and their strengths and weaknesses and their friends and routines. And a load of other stuff.
So why the ‘challenges’? Surely, enjoying close relationship is a positive experience? Aren’t I blessed to be so familiar with them? Wouldn’t lots of hard-working parents love the opportunity I have to spend time at home with their offspring and know them so well?
So, let me try to explain the tensions…
1) One challenge is that I sometimes think I know my children better than my husband does.
If you know my husband, you’ll know that he is a very perceptive and empathetic person. He has a pastoral role in his work at a school, and he’s really gifted in ‘getting’ people, in a way I am not. He also works long hours in a stressful job with a long commute, freeing me up to work part time so that I am mostly available for the boys. For which I am incredibly thankful.
But this has some challenges for both of us. I know the boys’ routines because I’m around more and because I’ve established a lot of those routines. So, to give a small innocuous example, when my spontaneous husband would say, “Let’s go out for lunch!” I’d be the killjoy saying, “But the baby needs feeding and the toddler needs a nap soon – it won’t work.” Times a million other, bigger examples. And I can see how he might feel pushed out, forced to bend to my schedule. It looks a very hard job being the full time working parent – you have to work an awful lot harder at catching up with what’s going on with the children. You miss a load of fun stuff but also a whole lot of information which seems incidental but is kind of key to the smooth, happy functioning of children’s lives. Like who has a loose tooth, and who has gone off peas.
Perhaps controversially, I believe in male headship in the family. In our wedding vows, I promised to “obey” and I meant it. But when we factor in the children, it all becomes a bit more murky. He might think it would be fun to watch TV with them in the evening; I have experience that this means they’ll find it harder to settle to sleep. I struggle with knowing what respect and submission means in parenting decisions. And I struggle to admit that sometimes his fresh eyes and empathetic mind can have insight that I’ve not spotted as I’m too caught up in the situation, or too convinced that the way I’m approaching things is right. I’m normally the one to attend medical appointments and to reach conclusions about treatment; I arrange and supervise their playdates; I have strong opinions about things we should or shouldn’t get for them; I have a lot of clout over their lives. I have to choose to listen to him, really listen to him, and to remind myself that he is just as much their parent and entitled to ideas about their lives. Even experts learn things from their co-experts.
2) Another challenge is that I think I know my children better than the other adults in their lives.
I really didn’t want to be one of those pushy mums. I cringe at the thought of being one of the deluded parents who bombards schools with emails with their misguided beliefs about their children and why they should be in top set. But I just know them better than other adults in their lives, including (sometimes) their medical professionals and teachers.
I see it as part of my role to advocate for my children. I update carers and Sunday school teachers and club leaders about their dietary requirements and additional needs. In the past I have literally LEAPT in between a food-intolerant child and a childminder offering him a cheesy whotsit, and I’ve confiscated the shared snacks from the church crèche (well, really, what crèche leader wants to be stuck with a vomiting child?). Of course, I want to make sure the boys are healthy and I have plenty of chance to observe an issue plus access to Dr Google, and so then sometimes (inevitably?) I question what the doctor says. Because I’ve discovered that GPs can’t be experts in everything. As time has gone on, I’ve learnt when I might need to overlook outdated advice or push for a referral (or in another case, ignore a bad leg for months and tell him to get on with it, when it turns out there’s a real issue that then involves physiotherapy and orthotics – big oops and mum guilt). I was really happy with our last doctors’ surgery, and found them very reasonable with my, ahem, assertiveness, for example, when I suggested, “Instead of giving us a prescription for this amount so we keep coming back for more, how about you just give us a big prescription?” and they agreed! (Unless that that is evidence that they just don’t want me to keep pestering them, like the parable of the persistent widow? Then unfortunately, the pharmacy cancelled that order because they said it was impossible that a GP would prescribe so much for a child and it must be a mistake – which is another story and another chance to fight for my child). But it feels like such a fine line to walk – when does the concerned parent become the unreasonable Momma Bear who thinks she knows better than the experts in their fields?
Also, their school. Now we LOVE the boys’ school. It’s a really lovely, caring environment. The fact that we send them there when a) we’ve moved miles away and b) I’m kind of in love with the idea of home schooling as per a previous blog, shows our level of confidence in the school. But my emails to the office now begin. “Me again!” and I’m on first name terms with some of the staff. That sounds so cringey I’m kind of embarrassed to read it. But I think having a children with some additional needs (plus the confidence that comes from working in a school myself) gives me the incentive to think, it’s right that I ask for certain accommodations for my children. Here’s a recent harmless example. Every June, the teachers ask the children to write down the name of up to three friends who they would like to have in their class the next academic year. This time, one son’s teacher added, “You need to write their first name AND their SURNAME.” (presumably because there are some duplicate names in the class). So one of my sons who is a very literal thinker was flummoxed because he didn’t know his best friend’s surname and didn’t want to get told off for writing a first name only, so he picked a name at random where he knew the surname, a boy who he told me later, he never actually plays with. So after a bit of hesitation, I sent off another email: “Me again! Sorry to bother you but…” My primary teacher friends are probably rolling their eyes at me at this point, and the teacher in me sympathises, but as a mum, could I really let him risk a year separated from a best friend over a misunderstanding? So I’m kind of getting braver, but also living in fear that I am overstepping a mark.
3) A third challenge is that I think I know my children better than they know themselves.
Tiny children don’t get much say over their lives. They make their needs loudly felt and it’s up to the adults to decide how to respond. But then children quickly learn to express preferences, and I find it a tricky one to know how much to listen to their ideas, especially as they get older. Don’t want to go to bed? Tough – it’s bedtime. (Easy one!) Don’t want to do to the school origami club we signed you up for? Erm, are you sure? Erm, ok then – let’s talk to your teacher. Don’t want that playdate? Erm, well that’s a bit tricky, because it’s set up now, and your friend might be upset, so how about we try going but saying we can only stay for a bit? It just gets more complicated.
Another biblical belief we hold dear is that our children should honour and respect their parents. Obedience is (theoretically) important to us, although I wouldn’t blame anyone for questioning this if they saw some of my interactions with the boys. But we have to balance that with the instruction that parents shouldn’t embitter their children. If doing this thing that I think is a good idea makes them miserable, then I need to respect them, and hear when to drop an issue.
But there are plenty of times when I know what they like better than they do. When they SAY they don’t want to help bake, and then actually love it. When they claim they’re tired and don’t want to walk to the park, and then have a whale of time when we get there. I wish someone could explain to me when it is that I should listen to what they’re telling me and respect their needs, and when I just need to pull rank and tell them I know better, as I feel like I get it wrong, like, all of the time.
And then there's just the remembering stuff. I (supposedly) know when their reading books are due, when they need their PE kits, when they should take a coat, when they need money, when they need to stop reading or they’re going to be tired in the morning, where they left their shoes, who they need to say thank you to. But this superior information, which should in theory make our lives run more smoothly, in fact can make me the nag, the official reminder, the resentful finder of lost things.
So knowing them well is a great blessing which I don't take for granted, but for me can sometimes be a double-edged sword.
But, worse still than the knowing them well is the not knowing them, the times that despite spending so much time with them I am floundering because I don’t ‘get’ them or don’t know what to do, when we ask everyone and search the internet and attend appointments and courses in search of answers. But there’s plenty there for another day and another blog.
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