You Are What You Wear

Though I do not wish to have children, I often think about what kind of mom I would be. Of course, it is easy to idealize my parental attitudes and behaviors when I am merely hypothesizing. In practice, I’d probably be a basket case.

There are so many choices that parents make that drastically alter a child’s life. Do I perpetuate lies to my child year after year about Santa, the fictitious gent who advocates obesity and consumerism? Do I allow my child to consume artery-clogging, hormone-altering chick nugs and big macs for the sake of convenience? Do I sacrifice my time, identity in the workforce, and energy in order to home school my children, granting them a superior education vis a vis the public school system?

Most notably is the question of what my child would wear. Do I impart style or frugality? Appearance is everything in our culture, so do I teach my child to use the system to his or her advantage, or to rebel against it?

I am an advocate of allowing children to make their own age-appropriate choices in order to foster independence, creativity, and critical thinking skills. I like the idea of allowing my child to choose his or her own outfits and ensembles. Yet, I would still be the parent purchasing the clothing. Would I help cultivate my child’s sense of style?

Just as there are websites dedicated to fashion, to my horror, I discovered a website dedicated to fashionable babies. I do not know whether to be amused or appalled.

Parenting

Reasons why I would be a bad mom:
1. I would insist that my child call me by my first name rather than the more socially acceptable term, “mom.”
2. I would raise him to be vegan, primarily for health reasons.
3. We would not have a television in the home, as today’s television programs and especially advertising pollutes one’s mental environment.
4. No fast food allowed, see #2.
5. We would not purchase Christmas gifts, and when his kindergarten classmates ask him what he got for Christmas, he would reply that he did not get any gifts because his family protests consumerism on Jesus’ birthday. We also observe Buy Nothing Day on the day following Thanksgiving.
6. I would frequently probe him to express his feelings about the various experiences he has each day, and we would process through them together. “What I hear you saying is that you feel distressed and pensive about the A- you received on your spelling test.”
7. I would talk to him about the love and grace of Jesus Christ, yet I would encourage him to be open-minded (as some Christians are perceived as being narrow, judgmental, and too conservative), so we would learn about the values and benefits of cultures, lifestyles, and beliefs other than our own.
8. I would strive to provide an educationally rich environment, utilizing programs such as Your Baby Can Read, so that my child would learn to read and speak at an exceptionally young age.
9. We would exercise on a regular basis for our physical well-being.

As a teenager (or pre-adolescent, since he will be so emotionally, intellectually, and spiritually mature for his age), he will rebel against his oppressive childhood. He will call me mom, he will eat junk food, he will sit around all day and watch television and probably even play video games at his friends' houses, he will buy crap he does not need at the mall, he will act surly and aloof and keep his feelings inside, and he will question his faith.

Parent Trappings

When I was young, my main goal in life was to NOT be like my parents in any way, shape, or form. Everything they did got on my nerves, especially my mom’s pithy sayings like, “well, life’s not fair,” or “no, you can’t have dessert before dinner.” Bedtime at seven? Ludicrous! Let’s face it, parents are just weird and quirky, and they make no sense. They don’t understand anything about real life or about their children, never mind the shared genetic and environmental material.

In retrospect, my parents weren’t all bad.

One good thing about my mom was that she provided a lot of educational materials and puzzles for me as a young child. I read my first word at the age of three and was reading literature (well, children’s books) by age four. I attribute these accomplishments to my mom’s time reading to me every evening, as well as the provision of intellectually stimulating toys and games (if you could call such lofty items as a stethoscopes and chemistry sets toys!). Of course, if my parents had lobotomized me as a youngster, I would have fit in with normal society more seamlessly. Intelligence is a double-edged sword, kids.

Dad, you paid for glasses and braces, all the normal childhood vaccinations; why not toss in a little zap to the dorsolateral prefrontal cortex?

Still, my mom was weirder and way more annoying than most moms. She was and still is very frugal about certain household items. For instance, plastic baggies and paper towels were rationed out cautiously, only after a four-page application and formal interview were approved. Paper towels, for instance, were absolutely not to be used to wipe up a spill. And if the paper towel was used for a minor issue, it was to be re-folded and placed next to the dispenser for re-use. If a fresh towel was utilized when a partially-used one was sitting right there, an egregious crime had been committed, subject to a lecture at the very least and probable doom.

Worse yet was her whole Gum Rationing Program. To even consider chewing a whole piece of gum was inexcusable. A half piece of gum at a time was not only sufficient but was more than generous.

My mom and I have very different personalities and communication styles. We have struggled to get along. In all seriousness, I never really felt loved by my mom. This fundamental relationship has affected every other friendship and relationship in my life, as well as my own identity and self-image. I carried around a lot of anger and resentment for many years. Depression and anxiety were staples of my existence.

After some false starts and unproductive talks sprinkled among long periods of avoidance and denial, our relationship came to an impasse last Christmas. I’ll spare the gory details, but suffice it to say that her behavior during the most depressing time of the year was a metaphor for our entire history of dysfunction. She really knows how to push my buttons. After all, she was the one who installed them in the first place. I then decided to cut her off for the better part of a year.

After this extended period of estrangement, she randomly showed up at my office one day, Christmas presents in tow (it was late summer by this point). With the power of the Holy Spirit working in both of our hearts, I spilled my guts to her that day in the hot shade of the parking lot. Only by the grace of God, she listened, and it was a profound day, as the anger and resentment have been completely removed from my heart.

We have been able to start afresh in our relationship. This reconciliation will pervade every other relationship and friendship I have.

As I write this, I ever-so-carefully tear a fresh stick of gum in half, placing one piece on my tongue as I carefully place the wrapped other half back in the pack. I just can’t stand to chew a whole stick of gum at once.