Every parent’s journey

Dr Gabrielle Jamela Hosein

ADULTS CAN be unfair to children. Sometimes we hold them to account for things for which they don’t even know they are responsible, particularly when we know we were not so clear about instructions or arrangements or plans, perhaps even to ourselves.

When they are then confused, we blame them for not asking, clarifying or knowing. We pretend they have had enough life lessons to know that miscommunication is easy and to always ask questions to understand what is expected.

Sometimes our tone conveys our power even when they've done nothing wrong. We quarrel with them when we are tired and they are being difficult, though we don’t articulate that it’s not just poor behaviour that is causing such "bawl up," it’s also us feeling mistreated, disconnected, unheard, and unloved despite all we do.

Few adults apologise to children, something that teaches by example and is necessary for their trust in us to be whole. We think that we are doing so much that it is our right to talk to them as we choose, that they should be grateful regardless of the mistakes we make, and that whatever hurts we cause are theirs to accept. We are surprised when children speak to us the way we speak to them, hearing their tone or backchat as rudeness, but rarely hearing ourselves.

Obviously, parents are trying their best. Obviously, children say and do (or not do) many things that are beyond frustrating. We were those children.

Mostly, Caribbean parents treat children as we were treated. We shout, give licks, embarrass, and punish. Rarely do we speak about our emotions: “When you speak to me like that it hurts my feelings and I feel like you have no respect for me, and I become angry.” “When you don’t do the things you should, I feel like I am someone who can be taken for granted and as if all I try to teach you doesn’t matter.”

We quarrel because children are not doing what they should, and they don’t hear unless we quarrel, but if we are being real with ourselves, many moments are wrapped up in our feelings of being ignored, unappreciated, disappointed, and exhausted, and sometimes our own fears, failures, and mistakes.

I always wonder why we talk to children the way we talk to no one else in our lives and would not tolerate being spoken to. Further, we expect them to accept our behaviour unconditionally even when we are mean, harsh, impatient, or emotionally disregulated.

Each time we treat children unfairly, it erodes their love for us. Then, one day, our relationship with them is not what we want it to be. Again, we blame them, rather than acknowledge the many small cuts of hurt we occasioned. Like us with our own parents, they will remember these moments long after we forget them.

Ziya turns 14 this week and it’s been a true journey. She’s like many teenagers; preoccupied, "grumpus," and in her own world, but as she grows, she increasingly – as many teenagers do – shows us our limitations and gives us back what we teach by example.

I quarrel and I boss her around (I thought I told you to clean your room! Why is this done halfway? Don’t be poohar! Come off your phone! Why didn’t you get organised last night?), but I believe in owning up to mistakes and apologising when I’ve been unfair.

If I don’t do this, then she won’t expect it from her relationships, there is less chance of her doing this in her relationships, and she will feel justified treating her children the same way.

Transiting from parenting a child to an adolescent is accompanied by serious lessons. Increasingly teenagers’ eyes are like adult ones with clear insight about parents’ personalities.

I try to see myself through her eyes, to welcome the honesty necessary to become a better person. She keenly observes us and there are many moments I get right and many moments I can improve. It’s important to evolve and change as she does and needs.

Amid all this, she is also happy and full of laughter, curious and feisty, and a whole world of joy, meaning, and connection. Every day I remind myself that growing together is what is most important. Like all children, she challenges me to care in a way that is loving and emotionally healthy. Isn’t embracing this every parent’s journey?

Happy birthday, beautiful Zi, thank you for all you continue to lovingly teach me.

Diary of a mothering worker

motheringworker@gmail.com

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