The Paw Print
I know there are a lot of things as kids we vow to never do to our children when we’re parents. Most of them completely unrealistic, because you probably vowed these things when you were 10 years old, when you got denied a new pair of shoes or a video game and you stomped your feet out of the store thinking to yourself you’ll never do that when you’re a parent. But one thing I’ve vowed to always give my kid when I decide to grow a human or take responsibility for one is making them feel comfortable talking to me. About anything. Even things more than likely I don’t want to hear, I still want to know about. I want them to have that connection with me because I know the loss of that connection is critically damaging. It completely sucks not being able to talk to your own parents about an issue or aspiration you have. Either they won’t understand you so why try and explain, they won’t listen so why try and inform them, or they’ve made no effort in wanting to know anything about you so why even think about letting them know.
I don’t want to be that parent. I don’t want to completely alienate my own child simply because I’m not comfortable talking to them. I don’t want somebody else to handle his or her insecurities, worries, dreams or aspirations. That’s my responsibility. I’m responsible for that stuff. My biggest fear would be if they went to the wrong person to talk about these things with, let alone if they found anybody at all. I don’t want that to happen. To have a child that felt like they couldn’t talk to me about anything would make me feel like the biggest failure as a parent.
They can hate me for having a curfew, for wanting to know who all their friends are, for making them give everybody in their homeroom class a valentines day card in elementary school, for making them pick up leaves or help out a family member to earn money toward something they want. They can hate me for that. But they will never hate me for being able to talk to me.