Ten Fingers and Ten Toes

I was urged today by a random blog post to remember the joy of seeing our son for the first time and recall the feelings I had when we initially counted his ten fingers and his ten toes. The blog reminded me in a roundabout way of the promise I made to God after having those two unexplained miscarriages that if He would just give us a healthy baby, one with all ten fingers and all ten toes, I would never ask Him for anything ever again. The blog asked when – possibly after holding our healthy son in our arms for the first time -- was there any discussion about him learning how to play the didgeridoo.

“The what?” We don’t want my son to play the didgeridoo, we just want him to graduate from high school and get ready to enroll for junior college in the fall.

Reading on, the blog asked ‘what if it turns out that you can’t have it all?’ It asked ‘what if you could have a clean house or a happy house, but not both? What if the only way to have a clean house is for mom and dad to clean for hours after working and taking care of children all day? What if by cleaning until all hours, we are so grouchy that we fuss at one another and the children? What if the solution is to let the dishes pile up in the sink all day?’ The blog theorized that if the only way to have a clean house is to have a home where the grown-ups are miserable, maybe a slight move in the direction of disorder may be the way to go.

I must confess that I am naturally disordered. Dishes in the sink don’t bother me at all, but they do my husband, okay, not the dishes, more so the disorder. He is an engineer and by nature he is a list maker.  He has made a list for our son, but our son is not necessarily doing what’s on the list. Consequently, this makes my husband grouchy and causes him to fuss at our son which, in turn, is making all who live with them a bit uncomfortable. But how does one suggest a slight move in the direction of disorder when a slight move in the direction of disorder causes discomfort to the one who has to perform the slight move?

The blog concluded by suggesting that maybe our son is not going to get a PhD in philosophy from Princeton…even if we give him psycho-stimulants. It said that if making him clean the house, play the didgeridoo, and take Concerta for his attentional issues guaranteed that our son would be happy and healthy, productive and content; we should do it. But if instead all we can guarantee is that he and his father will be grumpy and the rest of us will be miserable if we force our son to do the these things, then maybe we should go back to being grateful that he has ten fingers and ten toes.

I am grateful that our son has ten fingers and ten toes, but I’m not so sure that the solution to our situation is as easy as letting the dishes pile up in the sink or letting our son find his own way. I totally understand the concept of letting our son experience the consequences of his own actions until those actions have an emotional and/or financial impact on the rest of the family. I didn’t realize while I was holding my son for the first time that being a parent of an 18-year-old would be this tough. Where is the balance between being a pushy parent and being a guiding guardian? If anyone has a definitive answer, feel free to call me, any time day or night; you won’t disturb me; I’ll probably be up anyway doing the dishes.

Excerpts from David Altshuler, M.S. Newsletter blog dated May 15, 2012; david@altshulerfamily.com