By Andrew Kensley






Sunday, October 9, 2011

How much information is enough? Or too much?

Last week, Sophia and I were talking about love and marriage. Here's how the conversation went with my 5-year-old:

"Dad, did you have other girlfriends before mom?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you marry them?"

"Because I loved mom the most."

She paused. "Did you kiss your other girlfriends?"

"Yes."

"On the cheek or the lips?"

I immediately thought of adolescence and dating and boyfriends and got way ahead of myself. Sophia's earnest interest in my life before I married Tanya and had two kids got me thinking: Is it necessary for our young children to know all the embarrassing details of our lives before they arrived? Is that information helpful?

Contrary to what children tend to think, our lives began long before we were parents. We had other relationships and made many choices, some better than others. And although it might be hard for our kids to believe (except for those rebellious teenagers), we weren't always paragons of righteousness.

Everything we've done to this point has helped create and mold who we are as people and as parents. Our past experiences - even some of the things of which we're not proud - should serve as valuable teaching moments. We learn more from our mistakes than from our successes.

My goal is not to steer Sophia and Ella, her 8-year-old sister, away from conflict. I want to give them insight into how their inevitable challenges can help instead of harm them. Cautionary tales seem like a good option, at least now.

I'm not proud of everything I've done in the past, but my identity as a person (and all that has contributed to it to this point) shouldn't comprise my value as a parent. I maintain relationships with friends and coworkers and have varied interests. Even if these don't always mingle with my family life, they continue to influence me.

Tanya and I dated other people before we found each other, and neither of us is embarrassed to tell our children. Because of dating experiences in the past, I learned how to stand up for myself, when to argue and when to agree. Most importantly, I learned what I wanted in a mate, and what I didn't. And everything seems to have worked out well.

My daughters' inquisitiveness leads me to believe that we aren't meant to take on life's journey alone.
When Sophia took an interest in the decision processes that have led me to this point, I realized something: parents are the first line of defense against egregious mistakes, but also are the gatekeepers of freedom to learn. When our kids ask us tough questions, they crave the tough answers. If we choose to not engage their embarrassing questions, we may be doing our little animals a disservice for the long run.

I finally told Sophia that, yes, I kissed my old girlfriends on the lips. Predictably, "Ewww" was her reply. We laughed and I changed the subject. I didn't want to divulge any more.

Reading Minds

Last week, my wife, Tanya, read a story to our daughter, Sophia, and her cousin, Samantha. One line in the book made a reference to knowing what a person is thinking. Samantha, who is 5 years old like Sophia, said, "I can read my mom's mind."

"Really?" my wife said.

"Yes. I always know what she's thinking even when we're not together. I know she's thinking about how much she loves me."

We often think of mind reading as an esoteric phenomenon, like it's something only psychics can do. But we all do it every day. Unconscious behaviors and body language convey valuable information in the absence of words, and kids are expert decoders. Samantha's comment made me wonder how attuned our children are to our emotions, no matter what or how much we say. Can we trust that our kids will decipher our true intentions regardless of our words?

I think most young children are like my niece: little balls of instinct and intuition. They are unburdened by preconceived notions and cultural biases, things that typically anchor adults. They sense our sincerity (or lack thereof) and let us know how it affects them, positively and negatively.

We don't spend our days discussing how we feel about each other and what we can do to ensure everyone is satisfied. Yet, we still manage to wake up most days confident and secure in our relationships. Why? Because of the multitude of unspoken hints like random hugs, concerned looks and the simple act of spending time together. This is especially true in the nuclear family setting, where parents and children spend an inordinate amount of time together on a regular basis.

As far as Samantha was concerned, her mother, Jennifer, was always thinking about how much she loves her. While that might be true to an extent, Jennifer also has adult issues to deal with on a regular basis. When she's at work trying to meet deadlines and finish important tasks, she's probably not daydreaming about how much she loves her daughter. Yet somewhere along the way, Samantha picked up on her mother's unconscious behaviors - loving and heartfelt, no doubt - and that's what stuck in her mind.

All parents and children deal with their share of conflict and stress, from work to school and everything in between. We all, at various times, express feelings (verbal and nonverbal) that are less than loving. But as long as the majority of our behavior demonstrates the safety and comfort that our kids expect and deserve, we barely need words at all. And since children learn most of what they know from us, we need to demonstrate what we hope for them to learn.

Tanya was intrigued by Samantha's confidence. "How do you know that your mommy is always thinking about how much she loves you?"

Samantha thought for a moment and, eyes still focused on the book in front of her, replied, "I just know it. Every day."

Enough said.