Heather McLeod

I had a conversation with my (super fantastic) brother-in-law this winter that got me thinking. Here’s a paraphrased version, because I can’t remember the exact words:

HEATHER: I told Isaac to do a thing the other day, but he had some really good reasons for why he shouldn’t do it.

PETER: You still made him do it, right?

HEATHER: He raised valid concerns.

PETER: But you’re the parent, so he did it, right?

HEATHER: There was compromise.

(Peter looks at me, long and hard.)

Peter’s point was that I, as the parent, the adult, am the authority. I make the rules and my kid should follow them.

To a point, I agree. But.

Peter is an “authoritative” parent, and that’s a good thing: “commanding and self-confident; likely to be respected and obeyed” because he’s “able to be trusted as being accurate or true; reliable.” (Thanks, Google dictionary.)

However, some parents go mad with power and become “authoritarian” parents: “favoring or enforcing strict obedience to authority … at the expense of personal freedom.”

Authoritarian vs. Bohemian vs. ?

Parents have plenty of parenting styles to choose from. At any busy playground you’ll see examples of our many options:

Authoritarian Parent: Don’t climb up that slide. Get down now. I told you not to do that.

Passive Parent: Be careful, sweetie. Maybe you shouldn’t throw rocks, okay?

Best-Buddy Parent: Wheeeee, this slide is fun! Chase me! Woohoo!

Benignly Neglectful Parent: [On their phone or chatting with another adult, while their kid does whatever.]

I started thinking about what kind of parent I wanted to be — and could be — when Isaac learned to walk. At that stage, I had to start monitoring his interactions with other people, and choose when and how to intervene.

A classic parenting truth is to “start as you mean to continue.” I knew I had to choose a parenting style I could stick with for the long haul, including once Brock died and I became a single parent.

I am not a “do it because I said so” person. Even if I did choose that parenting style, and manage to sustain it (against my nature) for the next decade, there will come a day when my son is taller and stronger than I am, and he will inevitably respond to a parental command with: “No. Make me.” I won’t be able to. (Unless I keep up with the kickboxing.)

The parental style I settled on is a combination of benign neglect (I don’t build forts and I don’t play unless Lego or puzzles are involved) and teacher/guide. Because he has this kind of mom, my son plays extremely well on his own, is imaginative, loves Lego, and takes pride in making and bringing me breakfast in bed.

Okay, yes, we also play in the sand together.

Obedience vs. Critical Thinking

Authoritarian parenting goes against my nature, but also I just don’t like it. I don’t like it when people in power make and enforce rules just to exercise their power, with no room for discussion or compromise.

I want my son to question authority. Even now, in kindergarten, I want him to ask for the reasons behind the rules. He should understand why he’s supposed to walk carefully in the hallways and hang up his coat.

I have this wonderful memory of me, Brock and Isaac sitting at the kitchen table. Isaac wanted ice cream, and Brock said no. Isaac didn’t throw a tantrum, but he really wanted that ice cream so he started to give reasons (calmly) why ice cream was a good idea. Brock didn’t get angry that a three-year-old was questioning his decision. He thought about and addressed each one of Isaac’s points. Isaac stood up on his chair and continued to think of more arguments, until eventually he shrugged and said: “I have no more words.”

Both Brock and I applauded Isaac for thinking of all his reasons and making his point clearly. (We still didn’t give him any ice cream.)

I love that Isaac could debate intelligently. I love that Brock didn’t get pissy at having his authority questioned. He’d made his decision to not allow ice cream at that time for a good reason, not just to exercise his dad-power, and so there was no danger of being “out-argued” by his toddler.

Brock teaches 3-year-old Isaac a McLeod man’s critical life skill: making chocolate milk.

Parenting for Privilege

I want Isaac to know he can question authority, because he will always have that privilege.

Fact #1: My kid is a white, middle-class, Canadian male. Given his dad’s genetics, he might be tall, which will (according to the stats) make life even easier for him.

Fact #2: He lives in a functional, loving home with a functional, loving extended family. No addictions (except Lego), no neglect, no abuse. He eats healthy food, sleeps 10-12 hours at night, and we read together for 1-2 hours every day.

Fact #3: He is an ideal student (this is apparent even at the kindergarten level) and will get a post-secondary education, probably at a university but maybe he’ll choose to apprentice in a trade or be an artist. He has a family that 100% supports whatever path he chooses, and an RESP account to pay for it.

He has every opportunity he could possibly have, and so will never have to endure someone who abuses their authority. My son will never have to put up with an employer or authority figure who can’t be questioned, because there will always be other doors open to him. And he will always have a safety net (i.e. his supportive family) to catch him if he falls.

I want my son to understand and appreciate his privilege, and use it to create the life he wants. I want him to ask for the reasons behind the rules, and question authority when it doesn’t make sense. I want him to say “no” and opt out of a dysfunctional job or situation.

Yes, it’s unfair that my white, middle-class son probably has an easier road ahead of him than kids who don’t carry these labels. I want him to question authority because, if anyone can do it, my super-privileged kid can. He can shake the trees that others can’t. If he topples a tyrant, or gets an unfair policy changed, that benefits us all.

Celebrating Critical Thinkers

Every spring, the Cowichan Valley School District couriers a box to my door. Inside are dozens of applications from graduating students who would like to be awarded our $500 bursary in memory of Brock.

We started this award to encourage students who thought like Brock: critical thinkers, who aren’t necessarily A-students but who enjoy reading and discussing ideas.

I read through these applications and throw all the ones from straight-A, rule-following students into the “no” pile. I keep the ones with reference letters that suggest the kid is something of a shit-disturber. I look for students who aren’t afraid to voice their own opinions or question the curriculum.

So far, our son is on the path of being an A-student, just like I was. Both of us like following the rules. My challenge for the next 13 years is to help him be the kind of person who would qualify for his dad’s award.

I want to cultivate that spark inside him that made him stand on the kitchen chair and defend his desire for ice cream, using all the words and ideas available to him in his little-kid brain.

Because he can, and he should.

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Me and my parenting coach, Ryan (aka Butter — that’s a story for another day).

I made a new friend this winter. Sure, he’s a fantastic chef, and super handy, and says “yes” to every adventure, but the thing I most admire about Ryan is his parenting.

His boys (ages 10 and 12 when I met them) are polite. They can survive a six-hour road trip without an electronic device. The eldest makes bacon & eggs breakfasts for the family.

I know a Super Hero when I see one, and Ryan is a Super Dad. Sure, he has his off days, but in general he’s rocking this parenting thing and I asked him to teach me his secrets.

Lesson 1: Parenting is a Choice

At some point, we have to choose to parent. Not just to procreate, but to accept our role as a parent whose job it is to prepare our kid(s) for their own adult lives.

It’s hard to make this choice. Partly because many of us don’t realize it is a choice. We think: of course we’re “parenting,” we’ve been “parenting” since that first diaper. But no. There’s a point when we switch tracks, from survival mode (“please stop crying”) to parenting (“here’s how to wash your clothes”).

It’s also hard to actively “parent” because it takes effort. Parenting is the last thing a mom or dad wants to do when they get home from work at the end of the day. It’s so easy to NOT parent. In order to give our kids the parenting they need and crave, we have to choose (yet again) to put our own needs second and our kids first.

Super Dad Ryan made this choice. After a series of “wake up” moments, he chose to be a dad to his kids. He stopped outsourcing them at every available opportunity, and changed his focus from his own rowdy adventures to creating quality family time with his boys.

In the early days of our friendship I asked Ryan how mealtimes work at his house. Specifically: “Do you eat meals together?”

Not only do they eat together at the table, they also cook and wash up together. The boys ask to be excused, then clear the plates. They play cards or backgammon or crib after dinner. They have conversations.

I read Ryan’s texted response and then looked up at my own son, plugged into his iPad and Pokemon headphones, watching YouTube cartoons while he ate his breakfast, and realized I’d been lazy.

I was still in survival mode, after those infant/toddler years, and the years of Brock’s cancer, and then our move, and then building our house … “family meals” hadn’t been a priority. But if our mealtime habits were going to change, it was up to me as the adult, the parent, to change it.

Lesson 2: Be the Grit

Somewhere along the way, I picked up this idea that a parent’s job is to make life easier for their kids.

When our kids are babies, we take care of them. We anticipate their needs and try to give them what they want, mostly to prevent or stop the crying.

But some of us don’t stop being the WD-40 in our children’s lives. We continue to make their appointments, chauffeur them around, manage their interpersonal conflicts and play servant to them by feeding, cleaning up after, grooming and sheltering these Little Emperors.

In part, again, we do this because it’s easier. It’s easier to just pick up the dirty clothes. It’s easier to watch Netflix while making dinner, rather than try to make conversation with a pre-teen, much less get them to prep the salad.

But if we parents don’t teach our kids these very basic life skills, who will?

Ryan takes this even further: our job is not to make life easier for our kids, it’s actually to make it harder.

It’s our job as parents to introduce challenge and conflict into our kids’ lives, at a very early age, so that they can learn (in a safe place, with a safe, loving adult) how to overcome challenges and manage conflict.

Ryan dropped this particular pearl of wisdom while we were having lunch one day, and then he reached out and took my mug of tea.

HEATHER: “That’s my tea.”

(I was ready to fight for it.)

RYAN: “So that’s where he gets it.”

Our job as parents is to TAKE the favourite toy, so that the kid can figure out how to get it back without resorting to violence. We’re right there beside them, to model good problem solving and coach them along the way.

Our job is to NOT follow the kindergartener’s precise instructions as to how to build that sandcastle, so that they can practice patience and be open to friends playing in different ways.

Introducing conflict into my son’s life felt weird at first, but it’s actually way more fun than obediently doing what he commands.

Isaac carried his own adventure backpack on an 8km hike this spring. No assistance. He filled it with rocks and still finished strong.

Lesson 3: Do it for Yourself

Sure, being an active parent will (you hope) give you great adult kids. But there’s a short-term benefit to all of this too: self-respect.

Being a parent rather than an enabler is good for your own sense of self-worth.

Super Dad Ryan realized one day that his kids were staring at their devices while he was making their school lunches. He felt like a servant, and alarm bells rang. Knife down: no more of that nonsense.

He figured that if the boys had the leisure time to watch mindless pap on the Internet, they had the time to make their own sandwiches. His rule now is: no devices until after breakfast and lunches are done. He still makes their lunches most of the time, but he also gets some conversation time with his kids while he mayos bread.

I have more examples of this … Ryan and his ex-wife sleep-trained their boys early on, because adult evening time mattered to them. He taught his eldest to make eggs years ago, and cleaned egg gunk off the stovetop many, many times, but now gets served perfect eggs and bacon breakfasts. (Jaxson even butters the toast.) Ryan’s taught his kids manners, knife skills, design and construction, laundry, vacuuming and more, which has made them enjoyable, confident kids and capable future adults.

Teaching basic manners is a start. It’s soul-sucking and demeaning to be ordered around by your child. You deserve to be asked for something politely (“please”) and thanked for your effort.

Permission to Try

It’s always hard to veer from your set path. Maybe your kid is older, or you have an extra-tiring job, or there are some other extenuating circumstances and “parenting” just sounds like too much work right now.

My son ate his breakfast this morning at the counter, plugged into his iPad and Pokemon headphones, watching YouTube cartoons.

*The first cup of tea Isaac ever brought me in bed.*

But we eat dinner together at the table most days, and have conversations. I’ve taught Isaac how to make me tea. Sometimes he brings it to me in bed.

And when he struggles to get his jacket on, I force myself to keep my hands in my pockets because he will always, eventually, figure it out without my help.