Published: July 14, 2008 03:36 pm            

WHITE-WALKER: A parent's progress, if any

Drawing from the same gene pool, sharing the same environment and still the mystery goes on — how DO they come out so differently? Just as no two snowflakes are alike, so too aren’t those adorable little mop heads we dare to bring into this world. Of course I’m referring to our children, God love ’em and God help us. How did such once all together folks like ourselves (I’m talking to almost all parents out there) have the guts to take on such a lifelong responsibility? Some might call it stupidity; I call it a privilege to be a parent because when it’s going smoothly, (but when does it go smoothly?) nothing can compare to that bursting feeling of pride one feels smack dab in your chest, not to be confused with a life-threatening heart attack. Funny thing about parenthood, one is never bored — exhausted, tense, anxiety-ridden and broke maybe — but never bored. Sometimes boredom is good.

Parents, especially mothers, have you ever noticed how when our children aren’t physically with us, they’re still with us? The only time the memory of them is eradicated from our minds is — never! Sure hope that when the time comes for our final exit, we’re not too tired to collect our heavenly reward, and I’m counting on it coming with a family portrait of all those loved ones we left behind — for a while, that is.

Sometimes most, not all, loving fathers have the ability to completely detach. That’s right, they’re able to let go, allowing their kids to crash land while they just continue to merrily eat, drink and hog the TV remote, like all is well.

“Let ‘em grow-up!” the baritone and tenor voices bellow. “You wacky women are always coddling them.”

“What’s a mother to do?” the sopranos and altos wail, “they’re only 5, 3 and 1 years old.”

“The worse thing a parent can do is not allow their kids to develop coping skills,” the macho men insist.

“No,” cry we primary caretakers, “the worse thing a parent can do is to hate the children’s father!”

There isn’t any place in this world for hatred, let alone in our own homes. “Home is where they have to take you in,” wrote Robert Frost, but what if your kids never leave? For some, who vicariously live their lives through their children, that’s a dream concept, for others a nightmare. Recently I heard a father complaining about his ‘built-in’ son. “Last night I came home from work and had to clean up after the kid’s mess,” he lamented. That ‘kid’ is 54 years old!

Some of us give too much to our children, some not enough, but have you ever noticed how the very parents who give the most get the least from their kids? And those ‘children’ forever have a sense of entitlement. And those who only toss their kids a crumb, or wave a baseball bat over their heads, are showered with so much love and attention — I don’t get it. The short-changed parents have to turn away for fear they’ll covet thy neighbor’s children. Of course some of us are the exceptions — we gave and now we get, but are we ever satisfied? Are you kidding? We could look forever upon our children’s faces and it would never be enough — we’re not progressing, parents. I want my kids to write about me the way wonderful Tim Russert wrote about his beloved dad.

“Oh we will,” my four promised. And the title they decided on? “She Should Have Been A Nun.” Wait! I’m leaving all my pennies and dimes to the Church.

Karen White-Walker is a Wilson resident.

        

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