How Do They Not Know?
As humans, we can only know what it’s like to be the age we are — or younger. Understanding this can help us understand our children’s perspectives.
Photo by Julie Miley Schlegel
My son was going (in shorts and a short-sleeved t-shirt in 50-degree weather) up to the baseball field to hit with friends yesterday. On the way, Perry Como and the Fontane Sisters sang their 1951 version of “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas” in the car. He sang what lyrics he knew while I tried to prove to him that the goosebumps on his legs meant he needed long pants and a jacket.
“But the prettiest sight to see is the holly that will be on your own front door.…”
“And besides that, look at your friends. Sweatpants. Because they know it’s cold and rainy outside.”
“And Mom and Dad can hardly wait for school to start again….”
“At least take your sweatshirt to the field in case you get cold,” I tried one last time.
Not even hearing me, his response was this as he got out of the car to join his friends: “Worst lyric ever. I don’t even get that. What does it even mean?”
I started over-laughing in the car (which annoyed him) because he couldn’t fathom what it would mean for parents to want their kids to start school again. From his adolescent viewpoint, naturally egocentric, it would not affect the parents at all for the kids to be home from school. Don’t parents want their kids around all the time? Do parents even get stressed out? Aren’t parents there for the sole purpose of parenting?
At 15, my son doesn’t know what it’s like to be a parent. He cannot imagine having to stay up past midnight to get the stockings filled with treats, or the final gifts wrapped and under the tree. He can’t imagine feeding kids a minimum of three times a day (and teen boys about seven times a day). Checking the account to make sure it isn’t overdrawn. Coordinating family gatherings and making sure each side gets equal access. Trying to get off work for classroom festivities and performances.
He cannot grasp the exhaustion the day after being awake with an infant the entire night. Or listening to a three-year-old ask “why?” all day. Or hearing complaints of “I’m booooored” or sibling arguments. Traveling with young children and their gear. Or being up all night with a sick child. Or paying a bill and hoping it doesn’t post until the paycheck comes in.
My kids cannot imagine the all-consuming job of parenting, how almost every single thing I have done for the last 20 years has been with my three children first in mind. How once you’re a parent, you don’t really get to put your own needs first for a while. How you want with every ounce of your being to shield your child from life’s hard lessons – the ones you know they need to learn.
They have no idea what it takes to put the holidays together. The grocery shopping at strategic times leading up to the holiday – canned and non-perishables days before to avoid the crowds; produce and meat the day before with the crowds. The sign-up sheets for the classroom parties. The freakin’ Elf on the Shelf. The pageant rehearsal. The shopping for Christmas presents, and trying to keep the number of gifts even per child. Not to mention appreciation gifts for teachers and bosses and coaches.
Back in 1989, I was the age of my youngest son. I had no idea what it took for my parents to give us a meaningful Christmas celebration. And back in 1960, my mom at age 15 years presumably had no idea what it took for her parents to give her a meaningful Christmas celebration.
There’s just something so free about being a child, and even an adolescent. The egocentrism of adolescence is a necessary part of growing up. Just like a 2-year-old child has to learn “mine” before she learns to share at age 3, teenagers must learn how to be themselves before they can take on another person’s needs or perspective.
In a way, I am grateful my son couldn’t imagine I would’ve wanted my kids back in school.
The last time I was at my pediatric office for an appointment for my 17-year-old, there was a baby crying for the 30 minutes we waited to be seen. It sounded like a hungry newborn to me, perhaps with first-time parents trying everything in their power in the next room to soothe him. Because I have lived that stage, I felt compassion for the new parents. But irritated with the crying, my son asked, “How do babies not know they’re being annoying?”
I laughed and said “I could say the same thing about teenagers,” which made him shake his head in further irritation.
Until you are blessed with hindsight, you just don’t know. It behooves me to remember what my life was like at 15, at 17, and at 20, the ages of my own children. I was learning as I went through life. Just like them, I didn’t know what I didn’t know.
And that’s why anyone who’s had young kids in the house – delightfully exhausting as they are – can snicker at the lyric, “And mom and dad can hardly wait for school to start again.”
The advice and opinions herein are by no means meant to be a substitute for professional medical advice. Please contact your personal physician, mental health provider or health care professional for medical advice. Opinions are my own.