Prepare for philosophicals meanderings by your won and only Glenndog, bow wow wow.
Folks, it's good to see you again. I'd like to slip into my Glen Beck profile and say:
You know, I talk a lot about how brutal, and crazy, and ... maddening childcare is. But ya know, there's one thing that makes it all worth it-- ... --how cute they are! (exit GB voice)
Parents always think their kids are so cute. It's obnoxious, but unless you've been responsible for the care of an infant, especially if it's your own, you can't understand. They're complex little things. We're hard-wired to nurture and keep them not only alive, but happy and emotionally fulfilled.
It all stems from our biological nature, right? Like animals in the wild? There's probably not much more to it than that, yet the strength of the urge is incredible; undeniable.
Imagine you're God, trying to determine how to create an effectively reproductive species. What better way than to make them love (have increased affection for) their offspring? (And make sex awesome?) When we see our children, looking like us and being all cute, especially in the small and precious first years, it starts that survival instinct inside the parent's mind that doesn't die away for the rest of their life.
My great-aunt Carol said once, "You never stop being a parent," which was her response to her granddaughter Tessa, my youngest cousin. She commented on Carol's acting like a parent to Tessa's mom, Carol's daughter, Laurie. Confused yet?
Let me re-cast the scene: this is my Bellingham family branch I'm referring to. Last Thanksgiving, my little family was up there, visiting theirs. Sitting at their kitchen table were three generations: Carol, the grandmother, Laurie, the mother, and Tessa, the youngest of Laurie's three kids. Oldest available to youngest.
Carol said something reminding to Laurie, something like, "Don't forget to ... " etc. Laurie nodded and said something minimal. She is the breadwinner of the family, a very successful businesswoman who works very hard to keep her, her husband, and three kids afloat and, indeed, sailing.
And get this: three. natural. childbirths. Laurie is able to live her own life, to say the least.
Then Tessa started laughing a little bit, and said something like, "It's funny, you're being the same mother to my mom as my mom is to me."
This, of course, made me, the spectator, burst out laughing. I had to walk away. "That's funny," I said at least two times, probably annoying the crap out of all of them. I remember all of them smiling, at least. Then Carol said, giggling, "You never stop being a mother."
So that whole little story is my attempt to prove that parents never stop looking after their kids. I mean, they're your legacy! You don't stop wanting them to succeed after they've grown up. Even if it really, really, really irks them.
A friend of mine recently had a particularly trying experience with their mother, for this very reason. This person is in their 30s and lives far away from her.
Some parents interject in their children's lives, and some don't. Most try to play it cool, in the middle ground. My mother is very good at this.
Love you, mom.
My mom is currently taking care of a post-op mastectomy patient, a member of our family. Hard times.
***
Perhaps older parents feel that their kids' aversion to advice and "help" is something to be simply shrugged off, since, after all, the parent has more experience points, knows better, and is only trying to help. Any antipathy the kid feels toward it is simply the product of an immature mind.
Naturally, the offspring sees it as a service of nagging, perhaps more so the older they get. Perhaps the kid has an equally strongly desire to display to their parents their having aged beyond the need to receive the parents' advice and help, in part to receive approval, and in part to stave off more advice.
The receiving of parental advice seems designed to take some of that power away from them, and to make them little again. Perhaps the parent is the type who prefers prefer the soft, innocent, little, warm, non-arguing stage of the kid, to the older, argumentative, immature, unappreciative adult. Perhaps the parent is glad to be done with the headache of fuzzy babies, whiny children, and dramatic, unstudied teenagers.
I posit that the reason parents do this is that the will to love their kids is instilled hardcore throughout all the years of raising them. It's a time-centered process that takes all your energy and patience and shapes you into something new and stronger. That, and our biological instinct to keep them healthy is a strong one. It may even manifest itself in the form of the intense love that's triggered when just looking at your kid.
I mean, just look at them! And my kids are the cutest things since kids existed, by the way. They're both beautiful. I'll certainly become a nagging dad to some extent. Whatever happens will happen. My parents make a concerted effort to keep me on their good side, and thus, so shall I with my girls. Unless they grow up to be criminals.
I was just sitting here in the kitchen, mesmerized, watching BB eat in her high chair. Her smiles are those told of in legends of cutest babies. When I hold her, I stare at her face. Every movement she makes generates the most affection my male countenance has ever mustered.
She'll be eight months old on the 11th. As her face gets older, I see the development of more adult features--more of her individual facial character. She's going to be a beauty, just like her sister. For some reason I've been blessed with beautiful children. Do all parents say that? It's probably cause she looks like her mother and I, and we ultimately plan to have her grow up in our image, with no individuality of her own.
Folks, it's good to see you again. I'd like to slip into my Glen Beck profile and say:You know, I talk a lot about how brutal, and crazy, and ... maddening childcare is. But ya know, there's one thing that makes it all worth it-- ... --how cute they are! (exit GB voice)
Parents always think their kids are so cute. It's obnoxious, but unless you've been responsible for the care of an infant, especially if it's your own, you can't understand. They're complex little things. We're hard-wired to nurture and keep them not only alive, but happy and emotionally fulfilled.
It all stems from our biological nature, right? Like animals in the wild? There's probably not much more to it than that, yet the strength of the urge is incredible; undeniable.
Imagine you're God, trying to determine how to create an effectively reproductive species. What better way than to make them love (have increased affection for) their offspring? (And make sex awesome?) When we see our children, looking like us and being all cute, especially in the small and precious first years, it starts that survival instinct inside the parent's mind that doesn't die away for the rest of their life.
My great-aunt Carol said once, "You never stop being a parent," which was her response to her granddaughter Tessa, my youngest cousin. She commented on Carol's acting like a parent to Tessa's mom, Carol's daughter, Laurie. Confused yet?
Carol said something reminding to Laurie, something like, "Don't forget to ... " etc. Laurie nodded and said something minimal. She is the breadwinner of the family, a very successful businesswoman who works very hard to keep her, her husband, and three kids afloat and, indeed, sailing.
And get this: three. natural. childbirths. Laurie is able to live her own life, to say the least.
Then Tessa started laughing a little bit, and said something like, "It's funny, you're being the same mother to my mom as my mom is to me."
This, of course, made me, the spectator, burst out laughing. I had to walk away. "That's funny," I said at least two times, probably annoying the crap out of all of them. I remember all of them smiling, at least. Then Carol said, giggling, "You never stop being a mother."
So that whole little story is my attempt to prove that parents never stop looking after their kids. I mean, they're your legacy! You don't stop wanting them to succeed after they've grown up. Even if it really, really, really irks them.
A friend of mine recently had a particularly trying experience with their mother, for this very reason. This person is in their 30s and lives far away from her.
Some parents interject in their children's lives, and some don't. Most try to play it cool, in the middle ground. My mother is very good at this.
Love you, mom.
My mom is currently taking care of a post-op mastectomy patient, a member of our family. Hard times.
***
Perhaps older parents feel that their kids' aversion to advice and "help" is something to be simply shrugged off, since, after all, the parent has more experience points, knows better, and is only trying to help. Any antipathy the kid feels toward it is simply the product of an immature mind.Naturally, the offspring sees it as a service of nagging, perhaps more so the older they get. Perhaps the kid has an equally strongly desire to display to their parents their having aged beyond the need to receive the parents' advice and help, in part to receive approval, and in part to stave off more advice.
The receiving of parental advice seems designed to take some of that power away from them, and to make them little again. Perhaps the parent is the type who prefers prefer the soft, innocent, little, warm, non-arguing stage of the kid, to the older, argumentative, immature, unappreciative adult. Perhaps the parent is glad to be done with the headache of fuzzy babies, whiny children, and dramatic, unstudied teenagers.
I posit that the reason parents do this is that the will to love their kids is instilled hardcore throughout all the years of raising them. It's a time-centered process that takes all your energy and patience and shapes you into something new and stronger. That, and our biological instinct to keep them healthy is a strong one. It may even manifest itself in the form of the intense love that's triggered when just looking at your kid.
I mean, just look at them! And my kids are the cutest things since kids existed, by the way. They're both beautiful. I'll certainly become a nagging dad to some extent. Whatever happens will happen. My parents make a concerted effort to keep me on their good side, and thus, so shall I with my girls. Unless they grow up to be criminals.
I was just sitting here in the kitchen, mesmerized, watching BB eat in her high chair. Her smiles are those told of in legends of cutest babies. When I hold her, I stare at her face. Every movement she makes generates the most affection my male countenance has ever mustered.
She'll be eight months old on the 11th. As her face gets older, I see the development of more adult features--more of her individual facial character. She's going to be a beauty, just like her sister. For some reason I've been blessed with beautiful children. Do all parents say that? It's probably cause she looks like her mother and I, and we ultimately plan to have her grow up in our image, with no individuality of her own.
