I am a good parent because...
Feb. 2nd, 2007 11:11 amA few people have been making this list recently (I think
cangetmad started it), and I'm going to do it because it makes me feel so squirmy and awkward and BOASTFUL and argh.
Five reasons why I think I am a good parent
1. I listen to Oisín. If I'm talking to someone and he comes to talk to me, I give him my attention. If I ask him a question, I listen to the answer. If I don't understand what he's saying, I work hard at trying to figure it out. (This all applied before he learnt to talk, too.)
2. I offer him choices and let him make decisions as often as I deem practical (which is quite often). I try to avoid forcing him to do something purely for the convenience of adults. (Note that this doesn't mean I never try to persuade him to do anything - I suppose I try to gauge which of us would have to "pay" more to give up our preferred option. Obviously, this is a judgement call, but the principle is clear in my mind.) I try to avoid saying "would you like to..." if I mean "you must..." - and if I do say "would you like to...", I try to accept the response.
3. I am on his side.
4. I enter child-space with him. This is important, because before I had him I was never really comfortable in child-space. I lie on the floor and play at being kittens going to sleep. I treat teddy bears with sore heads. I play endless games of Where Unny Gone?, They Called Him Upside-Down Oisín, etc. More often than not, I lead the nursery rhymes at toddler group. I do these things without a sense of ironic detachment. I want him to know that his tastes and interests are just as valid as anyone else's.
5. I ponder my own ingrained reactions and habits of expression, in relation to what they teach him about the world. I go to therapy because I want to minimise the extent to which criticism, perfectionism and self-abnegation are part of his take on life.
Five reasons why I think I am a good parent
1. I listen to Oisín. If I'm talking to someone and he comes to talk to me, I give him my attention. If I ask him a question, I listen to the answer. If I don't understand what he's saying, I work hard at trying to figure it out. (This all applied before he learnt to talk, too.)
2. I offer him choices and let him make decisions as often as I deem practical (which is quite often). I try to avoid forcing him to do something purely for the convenience of adults. (Note that this doesn't mean I never try to persuade him to do anything - I suppose I try to gauge which of us would have to "pay" more to give up our preferred option. Obviously, this is a judgement call, but the principle is clear in my mind.) I try to avoid saying "would you like to..." if I mean "you must..." - and if I do say "would you like to...", I try to accept the response.
3. I am on his side.
4. I enter child-space with him. This is important, because before I had him I was never really comfortable in child-space. I lie on the floor and play at being kittens going to sleep. I treat teddy bears with sore heads. I play endless games of Where Unny Gone?, They Called Him Upside-Down Oisín, etc. More often than not, I lead the nursery rhymes at toddler group. I do these things without a sense of ironic detachment. I want him to know that his tastes and interests are just as valid as anyone else's.
5. I ponder my own ingrained reactions and habits of expression, in relation to what they teach him about the world. I go to therapy because I want to minimise the extent to which criticism, perfectionism and self-abnegation are part of his take on life.