Dear Elli,
I think a lot, as you will someday read all about, that I have no idea how to parent. I've learned that being a parent consists exclusively of trial and error with a vague idea of the principles you'd like to instill. It is a paradox of conflicting principles, with an exception to every rule. For example: I want you to be confident and believe that you can accomplish anything. However, I do not want you to think that you will be the next Beyonce because (at least at this point) you appear to have not one ounce of natural ability to either sing...or dance. I'm sorry, but this is true.
All that said, there is one principle that I've been thinking about lately, and I really hope I can instill it in you: individuality. Now this goes two ways as I see it, and I will explain.
First, you are not an appendage of mine. You are no doubt a part of me, but I do not own you, nor do I have either the right or the responsibility to possess you as a living human being. You are your own property: body, mind, and soul. My job is to guide and raise you, but you belong only to yourself. You are an individual.
Too many people think of their children as property that they must create and/or change, although I'd like to believe with the best of intention. I see this manifest itself in many ways within my fellow parents, from completing their kids' school projects to driving them like a drill instructor on the soccer field. The worst kind, though, is the inability to allow their children to either struggle or fail. These kids are expected to perform to a level of perfection that is far beyond their years, and if they are unable, the parent does it for them.
Ridiculous, I tell you. I should make it clear right now that I have high expectations. For you. (I also have high expectations for myself, but that is not the topic today.) I will not complete your homework. I will not scream or berate you on the soccer field. I will not do your science fair project. You will. And you will do it to the best of your ability. If you suck, and sometimes you will, you will have to do the work to improve. I will provide you the forum to practice, but I will not do the work....because I already played my heart out on the soccer field and did my own stupid science fair project.
So...just be warned. Your project probably won't be the best one. Johnny's project, the perfect one... his dad did it. His dad has significantly more sophisticated science fair skills than you, probably because he's an engineer or something. Sorry. It's totally gonna suck sometimes.
Parents did this back in my day, too, although Nanny wasn't one of them. I did my own projects, and they were ugly compared to the parent-completed version. Sometimes it made me sad because I didn't realize at the time that Little Susie could NOT put sticky letters on her poster board with perfect precision. But her mom could. Little Susie is a pole dancer today....and look at me! That's called redemption! (Not really...it's actually kind of sad. And it's also a complete fabrication. I have no idea what Little Susie does for a living. And I didn't even go to school with anyone named Little Susie. I'm lying, but you should still get the point.)
I'm sure at some point you are going to want the reason for my choosing not to parent this way. First, how on God's green earth are you going to learn anything if I just do it for you? How are you going to live in this world on your own if you have no skills, whether they be long division, book report writing, cooking dinner, doing laundry, or wiping your own ass? I have no idea, but my guess is that there are a lot of adults out there that still can't sufficiently wipe their own ass. You will not be one of them. Your ass will be squeaky freaking clean. And so will your laundry. As for long division, I have no idea whether anyone in the whole freaking world actually does this in real life. But damn it...you will know how, just in case all the calculators in the world malfunction and you need to divide 23,067 by 86!
Remember, I said this individuality thing goes both ways? I didn't forget the second one. I am an individual. I have my own likes, dislikes, loves, and hates. I am not an appendage of you. This is something that lots of Moms (and Dads, too) sometimes forget. I don't fail because you fail, and your success is not my success (although I will probably try to claim it is.) This means a few things to me.
You will struggle and you will sometimes even fail. If I've taught you anything, it will be that failure is a temporary condition. This doesn't mean that you are doing a bad job, and it certainly doesn't mean that I am doing a bad job. This is called the human condition. You will also experience wild success. This is not my success. It is yours. If you are feeling it, it means you did the work required to feel it. I will be proud of you either way. I will be proud that I provided the forum for you to try, and that I (hopefully) taught you to never give up. Parents who consider themselves a success solely because of the success of their children are both selfish, and acting unlike individuals. This is sad because it marginalizes the hard work of their children.
Although you are the center of my world, you are not the only thing that my world consists of. I have your Daddy, our other family, my friends, a career, books, and beer with my friends (no, I'm not joking). All of these things are also important to me, and you should know it. You should never feel the kind of pressure that some kids feel to be my everything. You are yourself, and I am myself. Just as you are not my property, I am not yours. I will continue to pursue all of my loves and interests, just as all people should. You see, even Moms are individuals and sometimes we all forget that.
Moms (or Dads) that lose their individuality are something I call martyrs of parenthood. I have no desire to be a martyr. Martyrs these days tend not to be very happy people. I think they were happier in the 1950's solely because they spent their days with the comfort of Valium. But today, in 2013, you can witness them all over Facebook, bitching about how tired and unhappy they are. They never get to go anywhere, and their husbands are assholes who stay out all night drinking (just ask them). Well...I probably would stay out all night drinking, too, if my wife was a martyr with no life outside parenting and bitching. It's really not cute...and I have no intention of teaching you that this is an expectation of parenthood. It's not.
So, I will close out this letter by telling you that as of today, I realize I am the center of your world and you are the center of mine. You will probably always be the center of my world, but I most certainly will not always be the center of yours. We are individuals. Individuals who love one another. I will let you "do" you and I will "do" me. (These are lyrics from a rap song...and I will be interested to see if anyone has any idea what I'm talking about when you finally read this letter someday. My guess is no.)
No matter, I love who you are and I hope you love me for who I am...since we are quite obviously not the same person. After all, you have that weird trait from your father that makes you rub your feet together when you're falling asleep. I will never claim it out loud, but it has always made me want to punch him in the face...and my internal reaction when you do it is only slightly less violent.
I love you, forever and always (even though you rub your feet together when you're falling asleep),
Mom
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