Growing up, the grandparents who raised me were a generation removed from me, and because of it, I never felt like I could go to them with real issues or problems.
I hid the deep and dark stuff because children were to be seen and not heard. We did not talk about the big things like sex or drugs. Instead, the warnings were direct and often frightening. They went something like this, “Do not do drugs or you’ll die.” The pregnancy mantra was similar: “Do not have sex or you’ll get pregnant.”
Alongside the lack of communication was a heavy dose of fear and threats. I suppose their own parents passed down less-than-stellar communication skills and used threats in an effort to protect.
I was terrified of my grandparents
I remember coming home after having a few drinks at a high school party. “You can do this one step at a time. Say hello and walk (in a straight line) to your room,” I whispered to myself as I climbed the steep front steps leading to our second-floor apartment. There was no getting caught, or I would die, or at least endure endless punishments preventing me from going to said parties until I was an adult capable of making my own decisions.
Not only did I not know how to talk to my grandparents, but I was also terrified of them.
Sometimes, this lack of communication led to unwise decisions. I didn’t feel like I had an adult I could call if I’d done something I wasn’t supposed to do. If I did something foolish, I was on my own. It wasn’t safe, and I’d watched more than one friend get seriously injured (either physically or mentally) when they made a typical teen choice and felt they didn’t have an adult they could trust to help them.
I wanted my kids to trust me
With my own kids, I wanted to keep the lines of communication open, which became especially important as my children navigated middle school and high school. These years of adolescence included poor decision-making and a desperate struggle between being a kid and trying to grow up.
I talked openly with them about drugs, sex, and drinking. No subject was off limits. They knew they could tell me anything. Keeping our communication open and honest showed them a level of trust that other parents found difficult to understand. I often had my kids’ friends telling me things they couldn’t say to their parents. I tried to listen without judgment. I knew it was a fine line between discipline and acceptance. I also knew no matter what, keeping my kids safe was my first and most important job as a parent.
As my second set of kids head into the muddy waters of middle school and high school, these discussions are again at the forefront. “If you drink, I’ll be more upset if you get in a car with someone who’s been drinking or if you decide to drive than I will because of the drinking,” I recently told my high school daughter. Realistically, while I don’t openly condone underage drinking, I know it is, more often than not, a part of the teen years. “Call me,” I said, “and I’ll come get you.
I try to stay open-minded
While there were many things I did not accept, I also did my best to remain open-minded. It was sometimes difficult to parent this way. My kids did and continue to do things I often don’t agree with. I looked at these as teaching opportunities, rather than seeing them as moments to punish. Viewing things this way has helped me foster and maintain very close relationships with my kids. It is something others have commented on, including a social worker I visited with my son. “No matter what is going on,” she said, “you two seem to have a really tight and open relationship.” It remains one of the best compliments I’ve received as a parent.
There was another side to those comments, though. Parenthood is often filled with judgment and criticism. When my son dropped out of school, and my teens struggled with typical teen things like drinking, drug use, and sex, I remember hearing a neighbor refer to me as a loosey goosey parent. The neighbor in question didn’t understand my relationship with my kids. They didn’t share my parenting philosophy. Really, they didn’t have to. While the comment initially bothered me, I knew I was parenting in the only way I could. I parented in a way that I wasn’t parented, but wished that I had been.
As my two oldest kids hit adulthood and my youngest two become teenagers, I’m not sorry for being loosey goosey. I would do it the same way all over again. In fact, I am. I have no regrets. I hope the neighbor who judged me feels the same way when their kids go through the tough teen years.
