Category: Beth

The first thing that comes to my mind when I think of the word “inheritance” is money, but there’s so much more. How many of us focus on the social status we’ll pass on to our children, to the exclusion of our intangible – and perhaps more valuable – assets? I have no social status, so there is no dilemma in my house. I’m going to pass on my intangibles, or I’m not going to pass on anything.

And there’s the problem.

My daughter got a bad deal in the gene department. She was born with a birth defect that caused multiple, painful urinary/kidney infections from the time she was born until she was about three. By the time the defect was discovered, it had caused irreparable damage to one kidney, and it had to be removed. While in the hospital recovering from surgery, we learned that she didn’t tolerate certain kinds of medication very well. We found this out when she started having frightening hallucinations. It’s bad enough trying to convince a child there are no monsters under the bed when they can’t see them. When they can “see” them… well, it’s one of the most frightening things I’ve experienced as a parent. When she started school we learned that she had Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder (possibly triggered by her traumatic experiences as a toddler), which led to uncontrollable behaviors that the other kids (and some teachers) didn’t understand – and mocked.

Many of you know this already, either through this site or one of many in-person self pity sessions. I’m rehashing it now only to emphasize why I feel a strong need to be patient with my daughter. She deserves my patience not only because she’s my daughter, I love her, and she’s had a rough time; but also because I feel partially responsible. I’d ask why she’s like this, but I think I already know. Family stories suggest my mother’s grandmother was a bit unstable. My mother’s uncle committed suicide. My mother was recently committed. My mother’s family tree contains a lot of prominent New England surnames, going back to the Mayflower, but it also has a history of mental illness. I live in fear that this will be my legacy to my daughter. I wish I could have washed my genes before I gave them to her.

The latest manifestation of OCD has me teetering on the brink of meltdown. Every time she hears the word “please,” she feels a compulsion to groan. At first I thought it was just Beth being surly, and she suffered the consequences (groundings, loss of allowance, loss of privileges, etc); but it continued. Beth loves her computer (like her dad), she’s not that bad a kid, and no one is THAT stubborn, so I finally began to believe her when she said she couldn’t help it.

But it’s so hard. I’ll ask her to do something (politely – with a “please”) and she’ll grunt, sounding to all the world like she’s being a snot – then immediately apologize. My emotions go from furious, to sorrow, to guilt so fast that I feel a bit dizzy.

Somehow I’ve got to make it up to her. Somehow I’ve got to find something else worth passing on… something I can nurture, that will allow her to grow and flourish… something that will be enough to make up for the garbage she’s inherited.

There’s someone I know that I don’t like very much. Although nothing about this statement is extraordinary, being commonplace is little consolation. This guy loses his temper more than I would like, and I cringe every time he yells. I see him show patience at the office and I wonder where it goes when he gets home. There was one time I saw him yell at his daughter, and my heart broke when she shrank back and said, “why are you yelling at me daddy?” Actually, saying my heart broke may be an understatement.

If you know me at all, you may have guessed I’m describing myself.

I know there are worse fathers out there, but it can be so hard sometimes… and this too is little consolation. At different times I find myself being an encyclopedia, teacher, mentor, counselor, mechanic, activities director, coach, mediator, agent, lawyer, maid, nurse, distributor, financier, cheerleader, dietician, and at least a few dozen things I didn’t think to list. I feel like a Jack-of-all-trades and master of none, while parenting demands mastery of all. I have no problem leaving my work behind when I go home, but my kids are my life and they go with me everywhere; with all of my warts and blemishes.

The other night we were working on math homework, and Beth was having trouble with a word problem. I was tired, a little sick, and of all things… she challenged me on my advice! “No dad, you don’t understand… I’m supposed to….” In my mind I know that this is a good thing. She’s thinking critically, independently. She’s trying to work things out in her own mind, and most of the time I’m extremely proud of her for it. Oh, but the other night it nearly drove me crazy. Who was this brash ten year old, questioning the boundless wisdom of her elders? Wasn’t she asking me for help? Doesn’t asking for help imply that you don’t know?

Maybe I’m asking to much of myself; but I don’t want to be a parent who yells… no matter how infrequent it is. I want to be the guy who earns their kid’s mutual respect through patience, understanding and reason. Maybe I am and it’s just too hard to see right now. Maybe it’s just a slow process, like everything else when a child is growing… something that is neither innate, default, nor immediate… something that must be slowly nurtured and developed over time.

Sometimes I want to savor every moment, knowing that my kids won’t be kids forever. Other times I wish I could hit fast-forward to get a peak at how things will turn out.

It scares me sometimes how much my mood depends on events that I have no control over. Every day my daughter is picked up from school by a local program which gives her a safe place to do her homework, followed by a Tae Kwon Do lesson. While it has done wonders for her focus and confidence, it doesn’t always work out so well as a place to get her homework done… although she has done much better this year.

Every day I leave my office at 3:30 to go home and start the evening routine: get a little laundry started, do a little dinner prep; and every day I wonder if Beth is doing her homework. I know that if I want her to grow up to be responsible I can’t be one of those parents who constantly looks over her shoulder. There’s a line somewhere between allowing her to learn the consequences of her actions herself (so that responsible behavior is self rewarding), and not allowing her to fail too much, too often. As I’ve said at length before, my biggest problem as a parent is figuring out where those lines should be drawn.

The good news is that so far this year, Beth has done better this year. It’s a good thing too. She’s getting more homework than I did my junior and senior years in high school. (That or we’re just making her do more than I did.)

I wonder if anyone has done any studies to see if there’s any correlation between birth order and various forms of deviancy? It seems like first born children aren’t much more than on the job training for starter parents. By the time my son was born I felt like I was qualified to teach a graduate level course on infant development. Meanwhile, I haven’t even started my undergrad degree in adolescent education.

Are those grey clouds on the horizon?

Oops. It’s almost five… it’s time for me to go to my lab class.

I didn’t expect this until high school. Beth pulled a late night, last minute school project throw together tonight. If you’re keeping score from home, that’s a fifth grade, last minute project.

We like to think we’re good parents. I knew she had “homework” that was due tomorrow. Somehow I didn’t catch on to the significance of this one being assigned a couple days ago.

“Come on Beth. This should be easy.”

“Maybe for you it is. You graduated from college. This is homework at my grade level.”

Sometimes kids can be infuriating and hilarious, all in the same sentence. You may find this exchange neither infuriating nor hilarious… in which case I can only trot out the “you had to be there” line.

My daughter was trying to get me to watch High School Musical 2 this evening. I was holding out.

Then she says, “Dad, you have to watch it. It’s a phenomenon.”

At this point I laughed.

“What?” she asked?

I just smiled.

“What does phenomenon mean?” she asked.

I laughed some more, but harder.

This is Beth. She’s clearly not impressed with my idea to take a picture posed under the sign for the women’s rest room.

Today wasn’t a great day, but this picture made me smile. Beth is a good sport, even when I’m making very little sense.