Step Away, Parent...

Ella, my 9-year-old, went to overnight camp this year for the first time. She was eager to spend a week in the mountains without Mom or Dad or anyone else from home. At the drop-off, Sophia, Ella’s 6-year-old sister, looked around intently, presumably taking in the sights, sounds and smells of freedom.

As soon as she found out that a cabin could be shared by girls ages 7 to 10, Sophia said, “I want to go to camp next year.”

“You might not be in Ella’s cabin,” I said, knowing how much she adores her big sister.

“I want to go,” she shot back.

“We’ll talk about it next spring, OK?”

“I’m going.”

My immediate concern was that Sophia might not be ready for a week away from her parents. She’s more sensitive than Ella and tends to be less comfortable doing things on her own. But her insistence on going to camp next year — and my hesitance — got me thinking: Was I trying to protect Sophia or myself?

Tanya and I both attended overnight summer camps as children; she was 7 her first time, I was 11. Even as kids, we were both social people with a taste for new experiences, so it’s not surprising that we continued to go back year after year. No question, the time away from my parents was nice but less enticing than the prospect of meeting new friends and trying new activities.

Looking back now, the best part was living with teenage counselors who forced me and my peers to work things out on our own. We couldn’t depend on our parents, most of whom tend to forget what it’s like to be a kid. I learned a variety of new skills, had a ton of fun, and developed a sense of autonomy that helped form who I am today.

I wonder how different things would have been had my parents been afraid to let me go. What if they were worried I couldn’t handle it? I might never have gotten the chance to prove myself.

Every summer, there were a few kids who had a tough time, but most of them worked through it. Like everyone, I had my share of conflicts and awkward moments, and I surely behaved differently (not necessarily better) when my folks weren’t around. But that’s the point of leaving home. Sometimes separation is the best thing parents can offer their kids. Think full days at school and weeklong vacations at Grandma’s house.

Ten years ago, before Ella was born, a pediatrician told Tanya and me something I’ll never forget. He talked about the dangers of parents micromanaging situations to the point of actually creating problems. He advised us to get in the habit of asking ourselves: “Is it bothering me, or is it bothering my kid?”

Now, as I find myself fearing an issue that might not even exist, I’m reminded of his wisdom. There are times when I’m more useful if I just step away.

Same Sex Parents...a nonissue?

Last week, Sophia asked, “Can a mom get a baby without a dad?”

Tanya explained to our 6-year-old the basics of how babies are created. By basics, I mean she omitted details about artificial insemination or in vitro fertilization. 

“But,” she clarified, “any two people can raise a child, not just a mom and a dad.”

“That’s good,” Sophia said. “A girl at school has two moms.”

Tanya and I have already done the first “where do babies come from” talk with Ella, our 9-year-old. But we haven’t yet broached the more contemporary (and potentially divisive) topic of same-sex parenting. Watching Sophia shrug off an issue that can easily polarized an entire country, I wondered: are families with same-sex parents any different from traditional families.

Nine years into my parenting career, I’ve learned how hard it is to be responsible for another human. I’ve also learned the indescribable feeling of loving a child, and being loved in return. Those emotions are common to parents from all races, nationalities and political pursuasions. That’s because parenting calls upon the most innate, basic instincts there are: guiding a helpless creature to a capable existence.

Biology tells us that only a male and female are capable of creating an embryo. But science doesn’t address situations like one individual’s ability and desire to love and nurture another human, or the right to raise a family as he or she sees fit, regardless of sexual preference. And with the many ways at our disposal to have a child—biologically, adoption, in vitro—the only true criteria anymore is one’s willingness to do the work. And let’s face it, raising a child is much more challenging than conceiving one.

When children are too young to understand sexual orientation (and, frankly, couldn’t care less), the measures of successful parenting are meeting a child’s physical and emotional requirements, keeping them safe, and having a little fun. Those early years set the foundation for positive values. And if two loving parents happen to be of the same sex, I’m confident that the crying baby, who’s just happy to have a snuggle, isn’t concerned.

I would imagine that as adolescence approaches, the logistics could become complicated. But regardless of the composition of one’s parents, no teen is immune to the trials of homework, peer pressure and puberty. And surely no parent—gay, straight, man or woman—slides by without stress either. 

The reality of family life is that all parties are constantly learning, and none of us is in a position to judge what happens in someone else’s home. In this way, sexual orientation is no different from ethnicity or someone’s job.  

Children benefit from the different strengths of fathers and mothers, and for that matter, males and females. And yes, according to biology, having one parent of each is preferable. But when the girl with two mothers in Sophia’s class hurts herself and calls “Mommy,” she’d probably say that two are most certainly better than one.