EFFECTS OF PARENTING

"THE CHILD IS FATHER TO THE MAN."

This quote has always bugged me in high school. I had this habit of collecting quotes and busying my afternoons and late night thoughts as to what each one of them means. Most of the time I get their meanings but the aforementioned quote was the most difficult among them. I was already in my last year in college that I understood what it might've meant. 

I also can't help but wonder if parents also realize that the kind of citizens who shall inhabit the earth depends on how they have molded their children.

I can't help but ask, "Will they ever stop blaming the child for what they've become? Will they ever admit they've been wrong? When will they ever realize?"

My parents were not really affectionate enough but I don't really have the nerve to intentionally disturb them. My mother was so stern.

Now that I am a parent, well at times, my son disturbs me when I am watching too much TV, considering the couch potato that I am. Sometimes I'd forget, I have a son to attend to. That I have a son to cuddle. I admit, I'm not really physically affectionate but I try my best to give my son the affection he needs.

He never disturbs me when I work but he often asks if he could hug me. Sweet isn't he.

I can't remember having to lie to my parents because we don't really talk much. So whatever happens to me, I keep to myself. 

I am confident that my son does not lie to me because he wants me to always believe him so he makes sure he tells me the truth.

If your child has poor self-esteem, it is because you advise him/her more than you encourage.

I seem not to recall having been encouraged by my parents as a child. Indeed, I have very poor self-esteem. I was really timid. I remembered having to walk through the bushes and among the banana trees away from the path. I was walking from school one afternoon, before reaching there I had to pass through my grandma's sari-sari store. As I walked down the wooden bridge, I saw a couple of guys enjoying their afternoon drinks at my grandma's store, so instead of walking to the path, I walked away seeking new paths because I was shy.

My mother sure was authoritative. Do this, do that. Wear this, not that.

My son is shy too but I wouldn't say he has poor self-esteem. I am authoritative too when it comes to my son but I am very encouraging as well. 

I could never recall any words or gestures to show that my parents have seen my potential as a fashion designer. As a child, I'd draw paper dolls and design tons of dresses for them using only crayons and Grade-one writing paper. However, my father told me I could sing. He thought I took from him. Funny isn't it. (I was never encouraged to be a fashionista but I am. I was encouraged to sing but I came to a realization myself that I couldn't.)  Another funny thing, my mother was a dressmaker. But I actually did try singing.(eeugh...I don't really wanna talk about it.)

I see a lot of myself in my son. He wants to try many things just like I did but I didn't have a chance to due to circumstances beyond my control. I go to the bookstore with him to buy origami and how-to-draw books. I allow him to search origami tutorials on youtube. He loves experimenting and creating stuff and he eagerly shows them to me. He is amazing.

If your child does not stand up for himself, it is because from a young age, you have disciplined him regularly in public.

I have been disciplined a lot in varied audiences; whipped and verbally attacked. Well, most of my siblings have the same exact experience except for our youngest. The notion of fighting back was just at the back of my head because I was so scared. When my fear settled and transformed into hatred that's when I took a stand. I might not have really fought back but I stood up for my decisions.

I might've made a mistake reprimanding my son in front of his cousin. When my anger passed and his cousin wasn't around anymore, he told me he was embarrassed. I apologized to my son. 

Asking for apology is another thing parents must learn to do.

Well, my parents obviously didn't commit this error. We mostly have nothing, so basically, it was very difficult for them to provide us with everything. Yet, we were taught not to take things which do not belong to us.

I do not buy my child just everything. He is bought only those that he thinks he needs for his hobbies: origami, drawing, experiments. Well, by experiments I mean those things he learned from school and he wants to do them again on his own at home. I always support extension of learning. 

One time he corrected me when I said,"Your wish is my command." He said mama don't say that because it only means you will give me everything I want and that means I'm a spoiled brat." I was tongue tied, I just stared back at him. Then I said, "Ok baby, let me rephrase it. Your dream has come to reality." Then, came out that innocent giggle.

Just recently, my son opened up that he is upset at me sometimes because I choose which DVD I should buy for him especially that I am really annoyed with the sound Spongebob makes. He told me that I am a bit unfair because I could buy any DVD I want but he can't buy Spongebob. He already have a Spongebob DVD and I thought that was it. I had to explain to him why and admit my dislike, I bought him the DVD after.

If your child is a coward, it is because you help him too quickly. Don't remove every obstacle from his path.

Don't remove the obstacles from your children's paths, let them figure out how the obstacles shall be removed on their own. Except if the obstacles they are facing might endanger their lives.

I grew up not getting a lot of help. I get to do household chores but I don't get to do chores I wish like getting firewood on that mountain above our barrio or going with my mother when she gets seashells or even helping her when she's sewing.

I don't recall ever helping my child figuring out his hobbies. I only provide him what he needs. Well, I don't have any interest in origami and sometimes I'm just so preoccupied with my hobbies too (watching TV series). And I'd say he did well on his own.

If your child is jealous, the reason might be you compared him with others.

I didn't turn out jealous though I was often compared to as a child. I was always told, if I could be more like Victoria(an old friend in my childhood days). Victoria can do this and that. I always felt that I was never good enough. I turned out timid and hateful. 

Sometimes, I sense some jealousy in my son's eyes. That his classmates have better grades. My husband and I never instilled in him that grades are everything but hardwork is. I can't seem to figure out where that jealousy is coming from. I never compare him because I know how it is to be compared to. I tell him that each one has his own craft. Now, that he has successfully made it to the honor's list mostly on his own determination because I don't tutor him. That jealousy is slowly fading.

Yeah, I get angry easily as a child but I was never able to express them. Could you just imagine all those anger suppressed? 

I don't get angry easily to my kid. I make sure he is able to express his side so that I could also explain to him how things should've been. 

I always compliment him with his achievements. Those achievements which seemingly are so small to celebrate for but of so much value in the essence of their growth in character. 

I would proudly say my child behaves well in school. Of course he runs around a lot. That is when he is playing with friends. He listens because he gets my attention and I am true to my words. I do not say things I can't and won't do.

I have this tendency of caring less about what other people feel especially when I have developed an amount of dislike, hatred and vexation to those people. Maybe because these are the people whom I have tried to please in the past but I have never really gained their approval. They tend to give me things to do but never really have time to see how difficult the tasks were and how gracefully I managed for them. That sometimes I'd think I was just a JOB.

Let's get back to my childhood. I grew up with questions in my head, one of which is, "How much do they really care?'

As the eldest in the family, most of the chores belong to me. Eager to please my mother, I woke up one Saturday morning, doing all the other household chores early so that I could wash the clothes early. That day was really a truckload. I had to walk more than two hundred meters to reach the well by the river where water was so abundant. That river also had springs where you could just rinse the soapy clothes so easily. I finished past two in the afternoon. With my very lanky body and thin limbs, I managed to carry the heavy basin filled with washed clothes on my head. When I reached home, I hung them hastily. I haven't eaten my lunch, I was tired but relieved that I thought I have at least done something right in the eyes of my mother. Then came my mother yapping about how terrible smelling the clothes turned out to be. She hasn't even asked me if I have eaten. I was only eight years old.

I remembered having a very painful wound on my head. I got it when I hit my head on a rock one day when I was running back to our house from the green field just beside it because I saw that my mother heading back. We were not allowed to gallivant around during her absence. I suffered the pain for days and I prayed that she would never see it. Had she seen that wound on my head, she would've reprimanded and punished me. I still carry that scar everyday.

In order for you to trace where all this fear is coming from. Let us start when I was a lot, lot younger. I don't know exactly how old but I wasn't in school yet. My mother wanted me to sleep at noon, that is a few minutes after lunch. Honestly, I wasn't sleepy. No matter how I tried, I couldn't sleep. When I heard mama approaching, I closed my eyes pretending to sleep but she knew better. She harshly took me from bed. I was whipped with anything she could get hold of. I could still hear myself screaming and crying begging her to stop. She didn't stop. I already saw blood from my wounds opening up to whatever that is that hit me. She was not content with the suffering she's put me into she took a sack and placed me in it. She hung the sack the sack by the window with me in it. God, what did I do? Just because I couldn't sleep at noon?

I WOULD NEVER LAY A HAND ON MY CHILD. Though I admit, I had moments when I turn out to be like her but I fought, I fought myself. 

Children tend to copy what adults do and adults sometimes do not recognize it. They wonder why their children are like this and like that. Or if not, they want their child to be this and that but they are the opposite. 

I used to be a very sweet child, my mother said as relayed by my grandmother. Yes, I was. I was eager to please. I used to make greeting cards for my parents for every occasion. Yet, I never heard a simple "thank you" or any gesture of appreciation. I grew apart from them and drifted further away each day until fixing the flat is irreparable. I am the sweet child no more.

I AM RUDE ONLY TO THOSE WHO ARE RUDE. A CHILD IS FATHER TO THE MAN, INDEED.

CREDITS
To Rommel Z.  Alvarez for sharing these photos from Facebook