The Razor’s Edge Between Control and Anarchy

Listening to: Just Gimme the Light - Sean Paul

Mood: Calm, for now

It’s a dance that all parents do. Some better than others on both sides of the spectrum.  The razor’s edge that exists between controlling them completely and having complete and utter anarchy.  I can just see the parents nodding. Those who don’t have children would probably laugh at this sentiment; it can’t possibly be that polarized.  To those, I say this: If you give a child an inch, he or she will blow the refrigerator up with TNT. Just to see what happens. The inch you give in hopes that small-ish children will step up to the responsibility is often either stolen or squirreled away for future devious uses. I wish I was joking about this.

I grew up in a time where kids disappeared on their bikes for hours at a time to go and actually play. As long as you were back before the streetlights came on, you were fine. It absolutely blows my mind how my parents thought this would be ok, and honestly, thinking back, it wasn’t a great thing for us kids. I can remember all of the naughty (with a few felonies thrown in – true story) things we did before I was even 12. Sure, it fostered a sense of independence in me that has helped me manage my entire life, but it also resulted in nonstop chicanery, most of which my parents had no idea even happened.  

It was a rather strange dichotomy. Due to things out of their control, both my parents worked while I was young. This was back before the days that DCFS (child services) was all up on top of things – no one cared that a 8 year old and a 6 year old spent the day unsupervised. While they were gone, it was a free for all. Most of what we did was eat nonstop candy (which I still can’t figure out why my mom left in the house!) and watching TV. Not too serious, but we got into plenty of other serious troubles too.  When they were home, my dad was a General type parent. You will listen to me, respect me, and do what I say this instant.  My mom was a soft, figure until they got divorced. She figured out far too late that control was necessary from the beginning or it was hopeless. It was hard for us kids to manage, because when you get used to all that freedom, going back to having people direct every little move of your lives was hard. It was hard to have to go back to asking for permission for things you had long gotten used to making decisions for yourself.

Anyhow, those golden days are long gone in the US. Parents these days are more paranoid than career meth heads. We never lived in a single-house neighborhood after  I grew up (all apartments), so my children were largely raised with constant supervision, but even with these constraints it was still a battle. Cooking dinner? That will be the time that the kids paste bright red crepe paper to the walls in order to “decorate.” Taking a 5 minute shower? You really didn’t mind if we tried on ALL your makeup, did you mom? No, I definitely did not squirrel away a bright red lip gloss into my book bag.

After we moved to India, it has been even more of a struggle. India is not the same relatively safe sanitized place to raise children. It’s dirty, crowded, and dangerous in some respects. Yet folks here regularly allow their kids to wander around unsupervised. This is especially true in our community.  We live in a huge apartment complex. It has a compound wall surrounding it and guards that wander around and keep an eye on everything. At any given time, there will be no fewer than 30 kids roaming around unsupervised in a pack. The boys are particularly rowdy. 

It has really been a struggle for me to let them go downstairs to play with their friends and not go with them and make sure they aren’t misbehaving.  Don’t get me wrong here, this is not an apron string issue. My kids, and indeed myself, NEED time apart to recharge. Too much closeness for anyone isn’t a good thing. What I’m concerned about is that my kids will be bad. I’m under no misconceptions that they are angels. Good kids, yes. Angels, Bwa ha ha ha ha. Not a chance.

I always find myself having trouble doing the dance between raising my kids military style or constantly having to enforce, reinforce, and oh god damn it, just break out the sandbags and blast them back into order  style. With my kids, it’s almost impossible to maintain that balance for more than 5.6 seconds – I’ve counted.

I want my daughters to grow up and learn to be independent little beings who aren’t afraid to use their own heads and make good decisions. On the other hand, I have some serious doubts that certain ideas have sunk into their heads, in spite of a valiant effort from their father and I. They tend to take on a far too utopian world view, and India is anything but. I want to be able to get them to follow a few simple rules (such as letting me know who’s house they will be at before they’ve been gone for 6 hours with me searching desperately for them – again, true story) so that I can give them a bit of freedom without freaking either myself or them out.  I do try to explain why I have rules in real type situations so that they can understand that it’s important. However some things don’t lend themselves to easy explanations. How do you tell an 8 year old that there are people who kidnap, sell, and rape little kids? My children just do not have the mental capacity to fathom this. If I tell them they could be kidnapped and hurt, it just doesn’t convey the seriousness.

My daughter, much like I remember myself being when I was younger, is convinced she can handle situations that are far beyond her grasp. I’m bursting with pride that she’s confident and feels strong, but after all, she is still just an 8 year old. I will continue to balance on the knife because I think that’s what’s best for my girls. I just hope I survive parenthood with my feet still attached.


Becky