Advice on caring for young children from parenting columnist Seamus O’Reilly
My dad doesn’t give much advice, which is a bit annoying considering he should know more about parenting than any man alive. He raised 11 children, doing most of that as a single parent after my mother tragically passed away. While she was alive, my parents supplemented their existing family responsibilities by caring for six children alongside their own, some for years at a time. He should, by rights, be a repository of information, the ultimate boss of disapproving parents who hound me for every mistake and false start.
He is not. He intensely, almost frustratingly, hates giving advice, even when asked. In six years of being a father, I have only been able to register a few of the guidance he has given, scattered in my direction like gems from a reluctant king. The first is his famous claim that “children bounce back.” He means this, more as a consolation than a recommendation, as a description of children’s amazing ability to persevere, and as an incentive to worry less about all the terrible things that can and will happen to them.
As for the prohibitions, it was only under extreme duress that he eventually admitted that he did not trust “children’s talk” and saw no point in talking nonsense to children. Immediately, his penchant for lecturing his grandchildren about draining nearby fields, or the correct way to install a septic tank, made perfect sense. Otherwise, any advice given was limited to assurances that everything would be okay, or perhaps stern reprimands when one of our children tampered with the sacred contents of his refrigerator.
He offers two main reasons for his reluctance to provide advice. The first was all the unsolicited advice he and my mother received from their predecessors, a generation that criticized my father’s “sensitive” attitude toward family; Namely hugging and talking to their children. This was rural Ireland in the early 1970s, a time when getting down on the ground and playing with your kids was considered, if not illegal, then at least a very clear sign of mental illness.
The second reason is that he straight-facedly insists that he does not know what the benefit of his advice is. He claims that the main thing he has learned from raising a large number of children, frankly, is that there are no one-size-fits-all solutions. Having, as you would think, a sufficient sample size to deduce the secrets of child development, he instead found randomness everywhere he looked. Some of us walked at nine months old, others at two years. Some ate everything, others nothing at all. Some were borderline silent until the age of three, others talked to the nurses as they slapped our bottoms and cut the cord. And we all turned out, basically, to be fine. His claim, then as now, was that anyone who tells you there is only one way to soothe a child—or orders him to eat or sleep or read Shakespeare—is selling you something. And not just a book, but something much more sinister: the idea that you are always doing something wrong.
There are days when I wish he would be more straightforward, but I realize that what I really want is for him to step in and tell me the hidden secrets that will make the tougher parts of parenting less daunting. But as much as I still wanted a silver bullet to end the sleepless nights and endless mealtimes, the best advice he gave me was, annoyingly, its absence. If I had to distill his worldview into one principle, it would be the only real advice I give parents to this day: You know more than you think.
Advice on caring for older parents from family expert Joanna Moorhead
In time, you were the one calling your mom and dad for advice. Should you buy a new home? What did they do with this problem with one of your children? Or do I want to vent about this personal or work relationship?
But at some point, usually between your 40s and 60s, the balance of power shifts. Gradually, they started to need support and advice. Should they sell and move to a more manageable location? How should they tell your sister that they can no longer care for her children? Or your mother calls you to tell you how difficult your father’s condition is, that he has finally retired.
Every family relationship is always in a state of flux: but this transition is more important than most relationships, because it feels like everything is heading up. At its extreme, you feel like you are the parent, and they are the child. Even subtle disagreement — those incidents where you see your parent looking to you to make a decision, to make things okay — can be traumatic.
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As with every relationship, the key is awareness: awareness of yourself and what this transition means to you and to you, and awareness of your parent(s) and what it means to you and them. Let’s start with the latter, as the change is driven by the aging of your parents. From their point of view, they are moving from the driving seat of the family car to the back seat. This comes with a feeling of relief, but also fear: it is a loss of control, and humans are prone to wanting control, at least over their own lives.
From your point of view, you have reached proper adulthood: there is no need to fall back on the myth that you are still, in some sense, a child. This realization also comes with relief and fear.
A shift in power creates a space for a new way of communicating – and in this void it can lead to all sorts of issues. You may feel that your parents are too demanding or too constant; You may feel annoyed, even angry, with them. The more you can empathize with their point of view, and the more aware you are of the pain you may still be carrying with the way they raised you, the easier this recalibration process will become: at least you’ll have a sense of where it is. Rooted.
Every case is different, but there are some important points to keep in mind. First, whatever is happening now, or what will happen in the future in the lives of your aging parents, will not be a reason for you to give up too much of your life, dreams and ambitions. You only have one life – the one your parents raised you to enjoy. Also, if you give away too much of yourself, you will feel resentment, and this will affect all your relationships, including your relationship with your parents. So, create the boundaries you need, ask for help, and express your needs/concerns (if not to someone, write them in your journal).
Keep in mind that even though your parents’ lives may narrow (and so will yours over time), you can help them maintain as much breadth as possible. Encourage them to stick with an exercise class, try a new online course, or grab coffee with the person they just met. Aging is partly about loss, and you can help them avoid that for as long as possible.
Finally, as with raising your children, the key to almost everything is quality time together. This is certainly harder with elderly parents: but find things that you both enjoy. Watch old movies together; Go for a walk in the park. Play the board games you’ve enjoyed for years. At best, being with your parents as they age can give you space to revisit happy times from your past, as well as theirs.