The Talk. Acceptance and letting go.

It’s happening. That moment when you realize your children are now venturing out of their naive innocence; closer towards their own independence, away from you.

“Mom, we are having the puberty talk at school”. He nervously states from his perch on the stairs, hands clasped together between his knees which are opening and slamming shut in rhythmic succession resulting in an awkward, yet humorous slow clap.

Oh god are the only two words I could formulate in the super highway that is now my mind; fight or flight mode in full swing.

“Oh…Do you want to talk about it?” I articulate as water cascades off of the plate that has been rinsed for the 4th time and onto the counter creating a perfect distraction; anything to avoid any sort of long lasting eye contact with my son.

Over the last few inquisitive years, I have managed to maneuver my way around such conversations; being as vaguely informative as I could. Using terms like “mixing DNA together to make a baby” I have made the conversation one that does not give them too much information for their small, innocent consciousness to process, but enough to expand their minds in preparation for more information in the future.

Yesterday was this day. The day I had to sit down with my son, a medical dictionary (which was my first ever chapters purchase at his exact age) and mascaraed as a parent who was fully prepared to explain the female and male anatomy. My first struggle was how much was too much for my 9, soon to be, 10 year old son. Playground chatter and giggles I am sure, have hit his ears like waves. How much has he already learned? How much of this is true, accurate, healthy information?

I decided, best to start with the basics. I asked if he knew the difference between girl parts and boy parts, and their proper names. He snickered; I almost gave myself a paper-cut turning the page to a side cutout of our lower extremities. Through his giggles he formed the sound a “P” would make, paused, and completed the word uncomfortably “Enis”. As the word escaped his mouth he began to giggle with an akwardness that made me realize that this was another one of those teaching opportunities I am so often graced with. “That’s right” I responded “but it’s not a word you should be ashamed to say. Could you imagine how one of your friends, or a girl who’s going through this would feel if they saw everyone giggling?” He’s body language softened and he showed signs of remorse as his little mind processed what I was asking. “Not very good about themselves mom”.

We then went over names of other parts, using proper medical terminology. If I could give any advice to parents going through this; use a medical book. The photo I used was a side cut out (sounds gruesome I know) but it made the process less likely to invoke laughter; it was scientific and will hopefully encourage him to understand the inner workings of the body rather than an external photo that he would compare himself to. I then hesitantly flipped the page to a diagram of a uterus without child and one with to explain what happens to women every month when they are not expecting a baby, why this happens, and how a baby survives in the womb. Now, the reason  I was hesitant was because I was expecting the next question to be “how did the baby get there?” And I was unsure if I was ready for that yet. The question didn’t come, so I took a big deep breath, and I asked him if he would like a book to read on this subject or if he would like me to explain it to him. He (relieved) agreed he would like to learn on his own and ask me questions after.

He gave me a two armed, wrap around and squeeze hug before he thumped off in his usual goofy boy manner up the stairs and into bed.

I was left with my thoughts. “Did I do that right? Was I too detailed? Not enough?”.  My next thought was, as feelings of sadness and pride conflicted in my chest, when did this happen? When did he go from his Lightning McQueen obsession to asking questions about body hair and man voices? It all happens so fast, and it’s going to continue to happen quicker and quicker. And I began to realize, this was more of a learning experience for myself. I began our conversation incredibly uncomfortable (which triggered a pang of guilt and to reflect on myself). How could I possibly be a successful parent if I am not courageous in these moments. How will I encourage them to talk to me about issues they may be having openly and honestly if they view me as someone who gets uneasy. I grew from this experience; as I do with most of my parenting endeavors.

My goal is to have a relationship with my children that condones communication. That encourages positive body image and acceptance of others. To have them disprove incorrect information and be leaders with their friends and acquaintances. I feel like this step; this massive step in our relationship is one that opens doors that in a lot of adolescents lives have been padlocked shut.

They are still so young, and there is so much more I am going to have to teach them. But if I accept this inevitability with grace and delicacy; letting go, when the time comes, will not be as difficult, as I will have confidence in how I have built them up to be healthy, intelligent teenagers and eventually adults.

Back to basics; the fine art of discipline.

There was a time when children spoke when spoken to, and were rarely seen or heard until the sun had set and their mothers bellowed from their front doors to come in for dinner; for the 8th time. This wasn’t for lack of respect for their parents, but because they knew how to play and find things to do; like hide and seek or building a fort and they did not want to stop for anything.

With this world full of Facebook, Twitter, Instagram and endless supply of games and distractions on iPads, phones, computers and gaming consoles… It’s no wonder children have no idea how to keep themselves occupied on their own. I remember playing sailor moon with my best friend in her complex after school, some days we played Nancy Drew with my handy notepad and pen… Spying on the weird neighbours next door. My sister and I would complete our homework, that actually made sense to us. I don’t ever recall asking my parents for help with my homework. Most likely because my teachers had given us enough discipline to be organized, pay attention in class, and be responsible for completing assignments on time. There were no participation awards, you either win or you didn’t. And this allowed you to try harder the next time, train harder and be better prepared. To learn to accept defeat; with grace and a renewed sense of reaching goals.

We learned to own our mistakes, not make excuses for them. That being on time was not only important for our own well being but because it affected others and their time. We learned to respect every adult, not just our parents. To say excuse me when passing someone, even if we weren’t in their way. To say sorry, and please or thank you.

Coaches and teachers were on top of correcting behaviour issues. And not just lashing out or being rude, the simple things like listening when someone is speaking. I remember being at soccer; if you were late, 5 laps. If you missed a pass because you weren’t trying, a lap. If you spoke while the coach was going over drills, 20 laps. There were concequences, and you accepted that without complaint. And your parents didn’t email or berate such actions from their children’s other superiors.

My parents didn’t have cellphones that allowed them to spend hours liking, sharing and scrolling through posts. They didn’t second guess their parenting because they did what came natural to them not because they read an article on Pinterest on how to be a better parent. They learned from their own parents mistakes and successes; back when it was a simpler time.

I witness on so many occasions youth ( many times adults as well) and their idea that they are owed something from this world. That they have entitlement. Sorry to be so bold, but you don’t. You are owed nothing and need to work hard to get what’s deserved. Many of this I believe falls back on our social media; get rich quick schemes, sextape and YouTube millionaires.

I feel we need to, as parents, get back to basics. Back to correcting and teaching our children with confidence. To remind ourselves that we are shaping our future society. We have so much control over how the future will be when we are no longer here; simply by getting back to being leaders, teachers, disciplinarians, and true parents. Basic principles of being a valued, respectful and successful member of society.