“Mommy, even though it’s a different time now than when you were a kid, I don’t think kids today would say if they are gay.”
And so began one of our typical car pool conversations.
Mac Daddy and I have always been candid with our children. We talk about myriad issues at the dinner table – – unions, elections, race, poverty, women’s health. After a recent conversation about the ninny Idaho legislator who thought women could swallow a camera for a gynecological exam, nine-year old Deal remarked, “But your stomach is not connected to your vagina.” My 11-year old son Bird said, “This is why we need to teach science in school.” You see, we discuss all sorts of topics with our kids.
Since the boys were small Mac Daddy and I have been committed to sharing information with them in an age appropriate manner. We have a library of children’s books about Gandhi, Martin Luther King, Ruby Bridges, Anne Frank, Victoria Woodhull and the like. We’ve spent countless hours talking about the paucity of women in high ranks of virtually every industry in the world. We’ve talked about being brown skinned. We’ve traveled to many historic corners to learn about the Civil War, slavery, Thomas Jefferson. We’ve participated in Jimmy Carter’s Sunday school teachings. We’ve basked in the fanfare of Obama’s inaugurations. Our sons do not want for knowledge.
Mac Daddy and I have always been forthright, with our opinions and information. We have promised our sons that we will always tell them the truth. We are trying to underscore our willingness to listen and not (over)react. It’s precisely this parenting philosophy that sparked the Santa talk in fifth grade (We told the truth but asked Bird to keep the magic alive for his younger brother, which he did.). It’s also sparked talks about drugs and teen pregnancy. You see, when Bird was reading a biography about LeBron James, he thought there was a typo in the book because it stated that his mother was 16 when he was born. We didn’t speak in depth about this topic, but I did tell Bird that it was biologically possible so the book didn’t have a typo. The discussion didn’t go much farther (whew!).
There are many more examples, but most are related to stories that are not mine to tell.
But one example rings in my head and heart above all others. A year or so ago the boys’ babysitter, a high school student, had to cancel at the last minute. He had just lost some friends to a drunk driving accident. I too lost friends to drunk driving when I was young. We explained to the boys what had happened. And we continue to talk about underage drinking frequently, especially as our sons grow older and are more keen to our own drinking habits. Though Bird is only 11, a few months shy of 12, we talk to him about making good choices and what challenges his high school years will pose. We speak of brain cells and health and responsibility and safety and his future. We have made it clear that should he ever find himself in an unsafe or uncomfortable position that he can call us at any hour. It’s seems frightfully premature to have these discussions with a sixth grader, but when the time presents itself it’s better we speak up rather than mark the topic as taboo. We reiterated to Bird that we are always safe people to call. He can always count on us to be his “safe people,” no matter the issue or incident.
Bird has already confided in me about peer pressure and all the blazing hell that is the mark of middle school. The nurturing he needed as a toddler pales in comparison to what he needs as a tween. The crowning joy and pride of our relationship, though rocky as a British coast at times, is that he feels comfortable talking to me. I’m not naive. I know change is coming. But for now, he trusts that I’m here and that I’m listening. And the conversation about kids afraid to come out that launched in car pool went this way and that. We talked about how kids must feel to “keep such a heavy secret” and the sorts of secrets all kids guard. I dug deep to the days of SAFEchild’s Funny Tummy Feelings and spoke of good secrets and bad secrets. And again, I told Bird that he can come to us because we are his safe people.
I told Bird that not everyone has a parent to confide in. I certainly didn’t. I told him I was proud of him for coming to me with questions and observations and even complaints. He acknowledged that some of his friends don’t have such candid conversations with their parents. I told him that any of his friends can come to us if they need a safe person. We can be responsible, compassionate adults to turn to when someone needs help. We’d rather a child know there’s a place to turn than face a blank wall. Now mind you, it’s not my place or intent to keep secrets from other parents, but sometimes it’s simply easier for a child to talk to someone who isn’t his own mother.
You see, no one spoke to me about such issues when I was a kid. No one spoke to me at all about anything important. There was no candor in my house, and it didn’t feel like a safe place to ask questions. I experimented with no guidance, no safe person to confide in. As you can imagine, this was a cocktail for disaster. I want it to be different for my kids. I want to me and Mac Daddy to be their safe people. The boys come to each of us for different reasons, knowing we have our own brand of advice and insights. Growing up is harder than parenting. We grown ups forget that, tucking the details of adolescence far into the folds of our memory.
So let’s make a pact to be someone’s safe person. You just might make a difference.