As the chapter of my life unfolds with my becoming a parent, I find myself back in my early childhood days when I try to make sense of every action that my parents do. When either of my sons drew their validating look during those times I issue an uncompromising gesture over their actions, I remember myself the same when I was their age.
Time once halted as I watch them helplessly confined in the loving safety of their mother’s arms, but how it flies as they’ve learned their first step; alas, I see myself on a race to impart them the noble ways to survive in this complex system called life.
The thought of parenting style has suddenly played on my mind; I realize how I take for granted the responses that I’ve made in their presence. It came upon me that I should take into consideration the awareness of how to guide children as they grow up; and in their now preschool age I find this very vital.
Since my children do not have, in their tender age, deep comprehension of words, I try to speak in the language far more subtle yet familiar to them—the language of the eyes. Admonitions much I have enforced over their foul actions, and I let them understand in the emotions depicted in my eyes. But sometimes I wonder: is it enough to convey my intended message?
There are times when I inadvertently cause them physical pain. Though I feel the guilt afterwards, I came to deduce that pain is a necessity of growth— like a metal being molded into perfection by the harshness of fire and hammer. Caution however I practice in its application, for I have learned that pain causes hate. Such is the reason why it is said that we have to explain to our kids the reason for our inflicted pain, otherwise, resentments will brew upon their heart: and in time will evolve into hate. Pain needs to be reasonable, and should not be rooted on emotions, for it is the error of many that they hurt their children for no reason other than the whims of their emotions.
I am often deceived by what I think is love; I thought that giving my children what they want is a manifestation of my affection, but soon I learned that I have denied them the wisdom that one cannot have anything he wants in life. Being accustomed to getting everything can lead to arrogance and ungratefulness. I have witness this among the progenies of the rich, some have become so spoiled that they don’t care about anything other than their own satisfaction.
Loving someone entails the agony of allowing them to experience the undesirable. When my son wants something very badly, he would seek my blessing; but when I find it inappropriate, I will deny it. Then I have to bear the guilt of seeing him break down, with river of tears running his face. In time however, such disappointments will make him a better person, that he will learn that there’s always a reason why he cannot have the things he wanted, and such would teach him the virtue of humbleness.
The growth of my child is quickly passing before my eyes. Soon, he will gain his own independence and listen to me no more. But what I impart before such time shall be his guiding light. The day will come when I shall pass, and I want to rest with the knowledge that despite my imperfection I have done my best to shape them in goodness.
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