Nothing But The Truth

It’s that time of year again.  Award season for the film industry.  I’ve been feverishly watching the SAG nominated films, so I can send in my ballot on time.  Yesterday, I watched a film I had actually never heard of before.  (Now, I do live under a rock, so that’s probably not too surprising.) The film is called Captain Fantastic.  Have you heard of it?  I thought it was wonderful.  It has got me thinking about how we choose to raise our children,  and, if and when, we should shield them from life’s truths.  When your child asks you a question, do you tell them the truth? Do you sugar coat things? Do you completely avoid certain things?  Or do you tell them the honest truth regardless of their age and how tough the answer might be?  The father in this film, played by Vigo Mortinsen, tells his children the unfiltered truth.  He also raises them in the woods, teaches them survival skills, and “home” schools them without the use (or need) of today’s technology.  You might be starting to get the picture.  Hippie parents raising their tribe of 6 children, living off the land, yada yada.  All of that is inconsequential.  The thing that interested me the most was the way he handled the truth with his kids.

I often think back to times of tragedy as being instances that must have been tough for parents to offer explanations their children .  The death of a family member.  The terrorist attacks on 9/11. The Sandy Hook school shootings.    I didn’t have my son then, but I remember my brother’s kids being old enough to know about Sandy Hook.  I remember my brother and sister in law talking to them about it, though I don’t recall the specifics of how they did it.  I also know of other parents who completely shielded their kids from the whole event.  I suppose everyone knows their children well enough to know what they can or cannot handle and what it is, as a parent, they want them to be exposed to.  I have often thought about it during these crazy times in America.  O is still too young to understand any of this yet, but it won’t be that long before he starts asking questions about our world…..and well, about everything.

I can’t say for sure (as how can you know until you are in that moment) but I think I’d like to be completely truthful with O.  I tell him so much already.  Things that I am sure people think he is far too young to absorb.  I constantly define words and concepts.  Does he “get” any of it? Probably not, but he does often surprise me with things that have sunk in, unbeknownst to me.  I think about the capacity his brain has to make connections right now.  I figure I should give him as much information as I can.  As he gets older, I’d rather topics not be taboo for us.  I don’t want him to feel embarrassed or ashamed to ever ask something.  I want him to know that if he asks us a question he will hear the truth from us.  If he is looking for an explanation, I’d rather we be in on the conclusion he draws from the facts presented to him.  I don’t want to teach him what to think.  I want to teach him how to think.  Does that make sense?

I also know some parents who don’t want their children to experience difficult things.  Like being around an elderly sick grandparent.  I’ve heard “it’s too upsetting for the children.”  Or failing at something.   Or losing.  But isn’t that all part of life?  The learning is not in the failing…it’s in the getting back up and trying again.  Do people still teach their kids that?  I don’t really remember learning that as a child, but as an actor, it’s a paramount point to understand.  You learn quickly as an actor that there is no shame in trying and failing…only in not trying at all.  I’m not sure that is a common theme in today’s youth twitter feed.

Let me say, I don’t believe a child should be treated as an equal to an adult.  They need guidance and structure.  But I do think a child should be respected as a thinking being.  I think it is important to respect their intellect and their emotional life enough to be straight with them.  I mean, life is wonderful.  But it’s also tough.  Why would we want to shield O from any part of the journey? Eventually, he will be on his own.  Won’t he be better prepared for the world if he has some knowledge of it and the truth on his side?

Until next time, keep fighting the good fight, and remember, behind every great kid is a mom who is pretty sure she is screwing it up.

 

The Safe Decision

It’s early. The house is quiet, except for the sounds of the pipes attempting to heat this big house on such a frigid day. The snow is falling so peacefully. So beautifully. My hair is wet from my post workout shower but my coffee is warm and comforting. This is my second favorite time of day. Any time I get to rock my O, either before or after he sleeps, takes the cake. But this time is also sacred to me. It is unshared. It is the time of day when I decide what kind of day I will have. When I let myself just “be.” When important things are decided in my mind.

When the eight o’ clock hour strikes, the peacefulness ends. It is filled with “to dos” and tears. Giggles, whines, Sesame Street and subtle stresses. Life with a toddler. I know, I know, if you have a toddler you are thinking to yourself, “Eight O’Clock?!” Ok, so I am lucky in that regard. Absolutely. I know this. I am getting off track. Digression is becoming quite a sport for me, lately.

In my moments of quiet and soul searching, I have come to a tough conclusion. After much back and forth with myself I am choosing to side with my intellect. I guess I should come out and tell you. I am officially deciding to not get pregnant again. I know I have talked about it seeming to not be in the cards for us, but now I am taking the possibility off the table. I am going back on the pill. It makes me a little sad. I’m not gonna lie. But the possibility of being pregnant now at 46, and delivering at 47, terrifies me. We have weighed the pros and cons. After some odd health issues, that I can now chalk up to peri-menopause, we are choosing to be grateful for the wonderful gift we have already been given. The hardest part is knowing that on some level (at least in my eyes) I am letting my husband down. He protests that I am not, but I can’t help but feel that if he married someone younger, he would have more children. He will be upset with me for writing this. It is something I need to come to terms with.

It is what it is. One of my favorite mantras. But, it is. Considering I tweaked my back just from standing at the sink doing dishes while talking on the phone, it seems like our decision is for the best. I know I am not in the shape now that I was when I got pregnant for O. A pregnancy, even if successful, would be much harder on my body this time around. And of course, my psychic friend, Frieda’s premonition enters my mind. She said I would have one child and he would be healthy. If I wanted more I should adopt. She’s been on point with everything. EVERYTHING. How could she not enter my mind?

With the stress factors in my life right now, as well, I know intellectually that it is the right decision. The smart decision. The safe decision.

I sat here stumped as how to end this pondering, and then my own words, reiterated by my loving husband as a matter of fact, hit my ears. “Everything works out the way it should.” Oh, yes, indeed it does. Marrying the right person certainly helps, too. I have a feeling we are going to be just fine.

Until next time, keep fighting the good fight, and remember, behind every great kid is a mom who is pretty sure she is screwing it up. Thanks for reading, friend. Xo