“Not going to L.A. Not this year. This year you boys study. Very important.
This year Daddy cancel Christmas.”
I know some stuff about Dwight D. Eisenhower. I learned it 25 years ago and I’ll never forget it. Stick with me here.
Dwight D. Eisenhower was the 34th President, running under the slogan “I Like Ike.”
He was the last President born in the 19th century.
He was the overlord of Operation Overlord, the attack on Normandy. (Not President at the time, but I don’t recall what his official title was.) He was a five-star general.
He ordered film footage of the concentration camps for war trials.
He was President when Brown v. Board of Education was handed down, and sent troops to Little Rock to protect the Little Rock Nine. He called racial inequality a question of national security.
Sputnik was launched while he was President.
He lived out the end of his life in Gettysburg PA.
Why do I know this stuff? Because in the 4th grade I had to write a paper on a President. A list was passed around the classroom, and my last name started with S, meaning all the “cool” Presidents were taken (I got screwed again the next year, winding up with Woodrow Wilson, and as a senior in high school, when I got stuck with Amy Lowell in English class).
I didn’t want to write it, and I didn’t tell my parents about it, and I don’t remember how he found out, but my dad was freaking appalled that I hadn’t even started working on it two weekends before it was due.
I’ll say that again. TWO WEEKENDS BEFORE.
So my dad disappeared for a few hours, reappearing with a STACK of Dwight D. Eisenhower and “Fun Facts about American Presidents” titles— not kids’ books, oh no, we’re talking hardcore history enthusiast tomes. He unceremoniously dumped them on my desk and told me life was canceled until that paper was done. And then closed the door.
The irony here, of course, is that my mother was the hardass Asian. My dad was just a hardass when it came to work. Slacking inspired a sort of contempt in him, and putting off a paper just because I could was something he could not understand.
In Stitches chronicles Anthony Youn’s journey to become a doctor, fulfilling his father’s wishes, and when he writes
“Your brother… has shamed the family.”
“You don’t study?” my father says, his voice rising. “You can’t become a doctor. You end up a bum on the street. You have to study every day. Christmas, too.”
in response to Anthony’s brother getting As and (gasp) Bs on his report card, I totally get that. I smile in recognition.
Tiger Mom Amy Chua got a lot of pushback for pushing, pushing, pushing her daughter relentlessly and seemingly unnecessarily, and I know some people can’t comprehend how you can look back on that type of parenting with affection, but I do. And I think Dr. Youn does too.
Because as irrational as it was, it signified a sort of faith. An assertion that you can do this, I expect nothing but the best from you because I know you are fully capable of the best.
Why would you settle for less?
I admit, I don’t do things right away. I’m not driven that way (in fact, this post was due yesterday, I’m sorry Kim). I still tend to put things off because I figure I have time, and then life always seems to conspire against me at the zero hour.
But I still believe that I am capable of great things. I really, honestly do, and I feel an obligation to get them done. Because I can.
I still feel my father’s faith and hear his voice.
He wants me to write. He doesn’t understand why I haven’t already. It’s my skill and my gift; why am I not jumping at every opportunity to practice?
It makes me wonder about the moments that will stand out in my children’s memories.
When I am gone, what will my voice in their heads be saying?
Will I speak with perfect conviction? Will it inspire them to become their best selves?
Anthony Youn’s In Stitches gives readers a look into the training of a medical doctor who discovers his passion is plastic surgery. It is an awesome beach read, entertaining and full of gross medical procedures. I loved it, so go get it right now. Please and thank you.
Soccer started early this morning; shin guards went AWOL; my link love is later than usual. My apologies.
Whether you need interesting dinner party fodder, something to ponder while in the shower, or just something to read while waiting in line at the grocery store: I gotcha covered.
“Robert Groves, editor of Collins English Dictionaries and editor of the latest word list for Scrabble users, said: ”The latest edition adds nearly 3,000 new words to the existing quarter of a million available to Scrabble players. These additions are an eclectic mix of new technological jargon, overseas English, recent colloquialisms, street slang, and a few fairly well-established phrases that had not made it onto the list until now.”
Excuse my French, but what a load of hot horse puckey. In this house we play according to the King’s English.
I shudder to think what heroic softening glow Disney plans to put on those Seal Team 6 toys, games and playthings. My parents were the playthings of war. My uncle, permanently emotionally damaged: substance abuse problems and all the other issues that stem from there.
Though I wouldn’t buy these for my kids either, they are a much more realistic representation of what soldiers are like… after the war is over.
The articles focused on a single battalion based at Fort Carson in Colorado Springs, who since returning from duty in Iraq had been involved in brawls, beatings, rapes, drunk driving, drug deals, domestic violence, shootings, stabbings, kidnapping and suicides. Returning soldiers were committing murder at a rate 20 times greater than other young American males. A separate investigation into the high suicide rate among veterans published in the New York Times in October 2010 revealed that three times as many California veterans and active service members were dying soon after returning home than those being killed in Iraq and Afghanistan combined. We hear little about the personal hell soldiers live through after returning home.
It’s no different from the stupid Disney princesses. What happens after happily ever after?
Yeah, I still haven’t read the book yet. But the woman knows what she’s talking about. Tiger Cub got accepted by Yale and Harvard.
Companion reading:
How Do We Prepare Kids for Jobs We Can’t Imagine Yet? Teach Imagination and The Creativity Crisis: Why American Schools Need Design. I linked to both in last week’s roundup.
It’s really not. I swear. Especially now, during farmer’s market season; the less you do to fresh foods the better it tastes.
“People not being accustomed to cooking is a bigger barrier than money or class or any of those other things that people are bringing into the discussion [of real food.]”
“…cavities are caused by nutritional deficiency and when this nutritional deficiency is corrected, the cavity heals. If you think about this in an open-minded manner leaving all preconceived ideas about cavities behind, doesn’t this make sense? Shouldn’t the body be able to heal a cavity just like it heals a broken bone or a cut on your arm? Why would teeth be any different from a broken wrist after all?”
Interesting; all the more so because I had the shadows of a cavity forming six months ago, and I was sure that six months of not-quite-perfect brushing with new braces on meant I’d be getting that cavity filled. At my visit last week though, I was told the soft spot had resolved itself.
Two headines I want to share just because they’re so DUH worthy:
Several people asked if I had seen this. To be honest, I’m more disturbed by this girl’s parents decision to post a video of her shirtless on the internet, than by her choice of lovey plaything.
I do love this video of a sock gone missing and the quest to find him… vaguely not suitable for children for its (split-second) cartoon depiction of a body part that rhymes with sock. Via kurositas, which always has such interesting visual stuff, particularly animation. Check it out.
The hardest part of raising a child is teaching them to ride bicycles.
A shaky child on a bicycle for the first time needs
both support and freedom.
The realization that this is what the child will always need can hit hard.
-Sloan Wilson
Sometime around the new year, the Wall Street Journal dropped an atomic bomb on the online parenting world and called it “Why Chinese Mothers Are Superior.”
It was the first time that I’d read an account of parenting that resembled my own upbringing without it being followed by the words, “And that’s why I’m so messed up.” Even better, it did so with humor, and without shame.
For a fleeting moment, I felt a sense of solidarity, and validation. I thought Chua’s approach made a lot of sense. I wondered if I was being too soft on my own kids— and believe me when I say my kids would never in a million years think to describe me as “soft.”
And then I started reading the comments.
Whoops, turns out my childhood was criminally abusive! By loving and accepting my mom in spite of her being so hard on me, it appears I may suffer Stockholm syndrome.
Come on. I think we can all agree the truth lies somewhere in the middle.
I bring up Tiger Mom because the whole debate has made me reflect, quite a lot, on the hows and whys of the way I was raised. And how my own parenting is both a reflection of that, and a counter-reaction to it, especially now as my kids all start hitting the teen and tween years. (I will have at least one teenager in the house for the next 13 years. ENVY ME.) And how quick we are to judge those whose parenting styles differ from our own, when just about every parenting philosophy has its solid points.
It depends on the kid. It depends on the parent. Why is that so hard to accept?
She wasn’t one for dispensing advice, but these are vital lessons I learned from my Tiger Mom:
“You don’t need help; you can do it yourself.” I learned how to do my own laundry, how to clean the house, how to cook, how to clip & redeem coupons, how to make a grocery list and pack a grocery cart at a very seriously young age. And then my mother MADE ME DO THEM. All the time. She NEVER picked up my slack. Naturally at the time I assumed this was because these weren’t my real parents and they had taken me in only to do their chores; now I am every bit as strict with my own kids so that they will enter adulthood prepared, and make someone a good spouse one day.
“This is for your own good. It hurts me more than it hurts you.” Something my mom would say when I was being punished. I always assumed she was being flip and super mean, but as I take privileges away now I GET IT. It’s hard to be mean mom, to know that I’m the source of your current misery. It would be so easy to give in and drive you to the dance, or let you go to that party. (And sometimes I do, if I think you’ve learned your lesson, a flexibility my own mother never had.) But actions have consequences, someone has to be the adult and follow through, and unfortunately it looks like that lot falls to me.
“It’s OK if you hate me. That means I’m doing my job.” I never imagined I’d say these words as often as I do. And mean them.
“You are not your brother.” Now, I haven’t actually read Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mom yet (it’s on my Kindle, I just haven’t had time) but it’s my understanding that it actually chronicles how Chua’s Tiger Mom approach worked for ONE child, and NOT AT ALL for the other. I always hated the way my parents had different rules with my brother than they did for me, and it’s only since I’ve had to deal with multiple children that I understand. My brother and I are very different people. I was an exceedingly shy & timid child; I needed to be pushed hard or else I’d be perfectly content staying in my room alone, forever. My brother needed a different sort of discipline and encouragement, and he got it in spite of my cries of “UNFAIR!!” For a parent to figure out their children’s varying needs and adjust to that while navigating their sibling’s sense of justice and keeping things “even steven”… it’s a tricky business that thankfully I have some experience with, even if I only take away what didn’t work.
“I am not _____’s mom.” We don’t parent in a vacuum. Another tricky business, sticking to our guns while not being judgmental of other parents (and not caring how we ourselves are being judged). My mom & Amy Chua had this down pat!
“One day you will have kids of your own and you’ll understand. You’ll appreciate me then.” It’s true. I get it now, Mom. One day my kids will get it too. I hope that I’m still around when that realization breaks— my mom died before I could tell her about my newfound appreciation.
The fact is, we all have a little Tiger Mom in us.
Don’t think so? Let’s revisit the quote I opened with…
“The hardest part of raising a child is teaching them to ride bicycles. A shaky child on a bicycle for the first time needs both support and freedom. The realization that this is what the child will always need can hit hard.”
The hardest part of teaching a kid to ride bicycles, I would venture to say, is letting them fall off. Because you have to learn how to fall.
And giving them their hugs and kisses… and then stepping back and saying, “Get back on that bike.”And not taking no for an answer.
That is the essence of the Tiger Mom. Hardening my heart against you, for your own good.
It’s not easy, and it’s not so terrible, either.
Sometimes turning into my mother is not the worst thing in the world.
What parenting advice or lesson did your mother give you,
that you take to heart now as a mom?
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Mother’s Day is approaching, and I hope that everyone will take the time to tell their own mothers how much they appreciate everything they’ve done for them— not just the easy lovey-dovey stuff, but the tough love that was as hard for them to give as it was to receive.
I hope we can all reach out to other moms and tell them what fine children they are raising, or how we respect a parenting decision they’ve made, even if it wouldn’t work for our family. We all second-guess ourselves all the time. We’ve all wondered if we’re screwing our kids up. Give someone a little third-person reassurance that they’re just fine. Or let a new mom or mom-to-be know that she will rock this mom gig.
Not in a half-ass, last minute kind of way, either. Tiger Mom wouldn’t approve of that. That’s why I’m nagging you a month ahead of time.
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Check out the Mother’s Day greeting cards for all sorts of moms— mom friends, moms, mothers-in-law— they’ve got over at Tiny Prints. You want to tell her she’s doing a great job as a mom or thank her for being there for you? They have the card for that (including one that says Hey Mom, I Blame You. **snicker**).
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Tiny Prints provides simple, modern and unique stationery from Father’s Day Cards to personalized greeting cards to thank you cards, business cards, and even custom wedding invitations or photo birth announcements. Offering exclusive designs from the nation’s top designers, easy card personalization, a powerful preview engine and top-notch customer service and paper quality, their designs have been lauded by numerous television networks, publications and celebrities. With Tiny Prints by your side commemorating every holiday and momentous occasion is a cinch! They offer perfect party invitations for every occasion and memorable personalized photo-gifts like notebooks, photo books and calendars to commemorate the event.
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Disclosure: This is a sponsored post. I will receive a Tiny Prints card credit in exchange for writing about my mother’s parenting advice— stay tuned to see how I’ll use that credit to support other moms this Mother’s Day!
