Expectations

My mother-in-law, Gloria, volunteers at a local elementary school, helping second graders with reading and writing skills. Last week, one of her students was acting hyper. Gloria told him it was time to concentrate and do his work. The boy looked her in the eye and said, "Look Lady, I'm only seven. What do you expect?"

If we don't expect great things, we'll never achieve them. If we set the bar too high, we might make ourselves too anxious. Somewhere in the middle is a balance for each individual. When it comes to kids, I wonder:
What is the best way to manage expectations in order to achieve success?

We constantly set expectations to guide us through challenges and to help us achieve our goals, no matter how big or small. For some, these serve as a stimulus to work hard. For others, they create more stress than is healthy.

In America, where ingenuity and achievement are highly valued, highly motivated achievers are common. No activity is too difficult and no challenge too daunting. Failure is not feared but a necessary obstacle on the road to success.

On the other side, there are those who are comfortable with lower levels of risk and, by extension, reward. While they don't aim for the grand outcomes, like being a billionaire or winning a Super Bowl, they probably end up with fewer failures. Both types of people are similar in that they set their expectations based on what feels comfortable.

Adults have earned the right to choose their paths. Young children need to be given firm guidelines of what is expected of them before they can be free to set their own goals. Since self-discovery is an ongoing process, the learning curve is steep for youngsters. With an early start and ample room for error, the future is ripe with possibilities. As the ones entrusted with guidance for our little animals, we need to teach them to set appropriate expectations.

It's important to understand that the learning isn't limited to children. We parents also need to know what they expect of us. Indeed, at times I've set my expectations too high or too low. I've learned from my mistakes and hopefully have adjusted accordingly. I trust my family to guide me through my children's formative years because things change quickly.

In my brief parenting career, I think I've learned as much as my kids have. Before Ella was born 8 years ago, I had no idea about things like how much kids ate, how long they slept and how far they hiked before whining. Now, as I'm 5 years into the second child, I'm more comfortable with the failures and mistakes, and I've embraced the inevitable change. In fact, I expect it.

Gloria told me the boy in her class finally settled down and did his work, and he learned an important lesson about expectations that will stick with him. Not even seven-year-olds get a free pass.

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.

The Power of Language

A few weeks ago, Sophia and Ella asked if I could make them a Caesar salad. I told them I'd have to buy all the ingredients. Sophia, my kindergartner, said, "Don't forget the futons!"

When I corrected her, she said, "Dad, I know how to say crouton, I just like calling them futons."

"You can say anything you want," I replied.

"Well, except bad words."

Sophia's comment made me think about how our language affects others, especially our children. We try to avoid cursing when the kids are around, but sometimes it happens anyway. We strive to be polite but don't always succeed. When I slip up, my kids are quick to point it out to me. Do I, as the parent, have to explain myself? Should we isolate our kids from foul language at every turn?

The FCC considers seven words (you can probably guess what they are) as inappropriate to say on the radio. Of course, there are innumerable offensive things that can be said in various contexts. Most people agree on what shouldn't be said in front of kids, but cultures and customs differ. What might be offensive to one might not be to another.

Sophia and Ella, her 8-year-old sister, know that my wife and I are not fond of the words "hate" and "stupid," yet I admit to saying them every now and then. My daughters are diligent in pointing out these instances as if they were the parents. I don't like being corrected by my kids, but I, too, have to be accountable.

Out in the community, it's harder to monitor what our little ones are exposed to. Children often overhear their parents' interactions with their peers and conversations between adult strangers, two situations where language that is inappropriate for children can pervade. Yes, we are the role models, and we should be mindful if kids are around. I'm in favor of being careful, but hearing a curse word here and there isn't necessarily going to turn our kids into potty-mouthed sailors. If they happen to be exposed to inappropriate language, we should at least educate them on how to choose for themselves.

Eventually, my daughters will be adults. They'll hear and see offensive words and sights and will most likely utter a bad word or two themselves (maybe even in my direction). At some point, they will probably offend someone and be reprimanded for it. Hopefully, they'll learn from those experiences. I hope they won't be judged solely on the occasional slip-up because we all have them.

When Ella and Sophia were younger, I was very vigilant about what I said. I'm still careful about it, but not obsessive. Bad words slip out every now and then, mostly when I smash my thumb with a hammer or break a glass, which happens quite frequently. It's important to be polite, I tell them, but language has only as much power as we provide it.

It takes a village: or at least, an Ass-Kicker

During one of our summer rainy spells, my kids were trapped indoors for a day. They whined about having nothing to do and were frankly getting on my nerves. My wife, Tanya, took matters into her own hands.

A few minutes later, I climbed the stairs to find Ella, who's 8, and Sophia, our 5-year-old, wearing tank tops and tight yoga pants and jumping around gleefully in front of the television. I immediately recognized the familiar voice of one of the personal trainers from the television show "The Biggest Loser."

"Dad," Ella said, "We're doing Jillian Michaels' 30 Day Shred DVD. It's awesome."

Sophia said, "Yeah, we're going to have abs and get ripped like Jillian."

Jillian Michaels, a woman I have never met, managed to entertain and educate my kids when I was simply not in the mood. While I'm a far cry from being a neglectful parent, I realized we had subcontracted out our parental duties to a television set. The girls had fun and they got some much needed exercise, but still I wondered: Why do parents often feel guilty when they need help caring for their children?

When a child is born, parents inherit a unique level of responsibility. The child's survival needs become the priority at the expense of almost everything else. From emotional support to diaper changes to preventing injury, these tasks can be overwhelming.

In today's society, child-rearing support is not a luxury but a necessity. It can be frightening, but we need to learn to trust others with our kids. We expect that in our absence our children will be treated respectfully. Family, friends, babysitters and teachers can and do provide invaluable assistance with education, social skills and entertainment; things parents can't do 24/7.

One bad experience can taint a parent's view of a particular fill-in, and sometimes this is justified. But the reality remains that when we work, have a date with our spouse or take some time for ourselves, someone else needs to be in charge of our most precious resource. Part of our growth as parents is figuring out when to feed the rope and when to tug on it.

When we get stressed from the quotidian rigors of family life, our children won't suffer if our replacement is reasonable. In fact, they may thrive.

Kids need breaks from their parents just as we need breaks from them. New voices sometimes make the best teachers.

Tying shoes? I didn't teach them. Potty training? Tanya and I thank the daily routine and patience of our fabulous day care providers. Ella's second-grade teacher even taught me a few lessons about responsibility.

I don't condone strapping the little ones to the couch for three hours just because we're annoyed with them. But benefits can be found in unlikely sources. Tanya and I have always stressed the importance of health and fitness, yet it was Jillian Michaels who made it click.

Travel and Kids: A Necessary Pairing

When my kids and I play, we often pretend we're from different countries. Last week, Sophia said, "Let's pretend we're from England and we talk weird."

I explained to my 5-year-old that an English accent is not weird, just different from our own. But her myopic view on cultural distinctions got me thinking: How important is travel in the grand scheme of a child's education?

We live in a country that is the envy of many other nations. We have resources, cultural diversity and natural beauty that are enough to occupy our interests indefinitely. Yet there is so much the rest of our planet has to offer. One could spend a lifetime exploring and still not learn all there is to know; a desirable dilemma, for sure.

From foreign languages to curious taste buds, tolerance to budgeting and problem-solving to appreciation of being alone, I attribute many of my current life skills to my travels. Classrooms, despite their obvious value, simply can't provide the same practical experience.

When we witness the existence of other like-appearing humans living distinct lives, eating strange food and partaking in unique activities, we give ourselves a gift. That's because exploring the lives of others provides perspective on ourselves. We see our own genius and recognize our own fallibility, our universality and our uniqueness.

Watching another navigate the same pratfalls, albeit in an unfamiliar environment, makes us aware that the difference between races, nationalities and religions are ridiculously trivial. In a world with hundreds of unique cultures hours away (at most) from just about anywhere, personal encounters with those with differing beliefs should be as mandatory as American history class.

Don't get me wrong: I feel that the standard American school curriculum is vital in preparing young minds for college and good careers. Math, language, science, art, etc. shouldn't be ignored. I'm also not necessarily in favor of pulling children out of school for extended periods of time just for the opportunity to taste a Big Mac made in Tokyo.

There is, however, an intrinsic, unmatched joy that comes from immersing oneself in the true idiosyncrasies of an unfamiliar place. Add in money management, social skills and real-time lessons in history, geography and political science and suddenly the classroom of life makes the blackboard look like nothing more than a black board.

Do Brazilians party as much as we think they do? Does Greek food taste better when eaten overlooking a sunset on the Aegean Sea? Are Parisian churches as grand as they look in books? The only way to know for sure is to see for ourselves.

Children are naturally curious and their thirst for knowledge can yield mind-boggling results. I know from my own experiences and those of many friends and family that travel is an ideal way to expand our own personal horizons while learning things that will never appear in books. I want the same for my children.

Grown-Ups Are Human, Right?

On a bike ride with my kids last week, Sophia stopped suddenly in front of me. To avoid injuring her, I braked and fell to the side. I wasn't hurt but my sensitive 5-year-old started crying. "You fell off your bike and hurt yourself and now you're mad!" she yelled.

"I didn't get hurt and I'm not mad," I replied. "You just took me by surprise. I didn't want to knock you down."

She continued crying. "Grown-ups are NOT supposed to fall off their bikes!"

I explained to her that grown-ups, even daddies, fall all the time. I couldn't help feeling sad at Sophia's perception of my role. Do we need to make our children aware that adults make mistakes too, or should we trust that they'll figure it out?

Fallibility is part of being human. From walking to adolescence to marriage, life contains innumerable trials. Not doing things right the first time is a necessary condition for learning and hopefully, a pathway to an enriched life from that point forward. Children are by necessity the most frequent and malleable learners. And every student needs a teacher.

In a child's eyes, parents are the blueprint for survival. Behaviors are imitated without question because our little animals crave someone to show them how to function in a complex world. This scenario isn't always positive, like with harmful cycles of abuse across generations, but it is nonetheless a fact.

Most adolescents understand that mom and dad aren't perfect. But for a grade-school child, imagine the trauma of seeing mom screaming in a public place or dad spilling a drink, when they're constantly stressing good behavior and being careful. Such disappointment can either fracture a person's reality or help shape it.

Sophia's reaction to my fall taught me that she depends on my living up to an unrealistic standard. I don't want her to be shocked when she realizes I'm not perfect, but I'm not sure I need to explicitly point it out. I guess she could go 1 of 2 ways.

Pressure: If my role model messes up, how will I ever be good enough?

Relief: If I make mistakes I must be normal, like everyone else.

My wife and I point out the regularity of our mishaps, like forgetting things and breaking dishes and allowing bad words to escape every now and then, in hopes that our kids will develop a realistic sense of expectations. The more I think about it, though, the less all that stuff really matters. We'll be their role models because we love and nurture them. But also because, honestly, they have no choice.

After our bike incident, Sophia's and my relationship dynamic will probably stay on course. She'll look up to me, then she won't for a while, then hopefully she'll think I'm great again. I know one thing: the next time I fall I will most certainly get back up again. I hope Sophia sees it.