Being Different Makes No Difference
School is starting again, and my sister has to explain to her boys why their cousins have to wear those uniforms that are scratchy, buy a bunch of school supplies that are expensive and even leave to go to a school at all. I just roll my eyes. Those cousins are my children, and these conversations begin each year at exactly the same time and all have exactly the same ending. They end with absolutely nothing accomplished but a reinforcement of just how different my sister and I are living our lives despite the fact that our childhoods were the same. I would argue that our childhoods were not the same. Presumably, one would think that we would have similar ideas about most things, but as it turns out, you would be wrong. From my sister’s point of view, part of this disparity between us lies intrinsically in the fact that I moved away from home. Perhaps she is right that since we moved to a large metropolitan city, we (Brian and I) have changed. That we parent with a sense of safety issues ever looming that she simply does not think about (notice I think she might need to but who am I to scare her). That because of the change in locale, we have become more influenced by a wide variety of opportunities making our choices more varied and our level of tolerance for differences immense. Maybe so…
My sweet sister has two boys. She lives in a home built in the 1800’s with one bathroom and no central a/c or heat. She has chosen to home school her children and believes the best place for them at all times is either by her side, waking or sleeping, or outside roaming around. She has lots of land for them to wander on and find things. They have bees they keep and yard eggs they pick up that have dropped out of their chickens that roam freely. She crochets and first grinds something before mixing something else that eventually after a whole lot of work, turns into bread. She doesn’t believe that three is too old to breast feed and things like play dough and finger paints should be made and not bought. She will not friend you on Facebook unless she knows you personally, and she will report you if you don’t play nice on those internet video games. She can make homemade cakes and Lord can she garden… from seeds! She does not spank. She, like Nana did, thumps, and both of her children know what it’s like to wear a welt between their eyes just like we did as children.
This August will roll in just like any other month and there will be no grand rites of passage to the next school year. Those children will not go out and purchase shiny, new red folders, pencil boxes, and tennis shoes. They will not even know a new school year has started unless you told them so. They are schooled year round and all the time in things called life skills, as my sister calls it.
I, of course, have two children also, a girl and a boy. The public school system was a grave disappointment way back in 2004 and so I won my battle over private education with Brian. Ever since we have made that decision, I had been on a quest to find the best school for our family. After hiring and firing quite a few, we settled into International Preparatory School, and if you read my column in 2009, you’d know just how picky I am about who is watching and teaching my babies. Even though I, like my sister, graduated with honors and certainly have quite a lot of knowledge in various subjects, I can’t fathom having all the necessary knowledge in all of the areas that they need, and I believe that giving them a well-rounded education is part of my charge as their mother. I also know that they are the hardest to photograph because I am their mother, and if that is what I do the very best and even with them it is a struggle for cooperation, then how on earth will they learn anything under my direction… such as spelling and literature and my always dreaded…ughhhh math!
Back when they were babies, I learned that each child must be parented differently. Maybe that decision was made by me due to the cross the board spankings we got as children. We knew that when somebody did something wrong and no one wanted to take credit for it, then, we all got a whippin’. Sounds like a Bill Cosby stand-up, but true, none the less. I carefully have figured out what makes each of mine children tick, and although it’s more difficult for sure to pick my battles and discipline, I do not parent either of my children the same because as I explain ad nausea to my sister, they are not the same. Not only are they not the same people, they are not the same sex. I would argue that because of my parenting style, it is very likely that although my two children are living in the same home, they are not experiencing childhood in the same way. This is the most important point of all… the one I have tried to explain to my sister.
This then brings up an old list of injuries we each share as children of how different Nana and Daddy treated us versus our brothers. Honestly, we were all treated differently and were lovingly compartmentalized into who was who’s favorite and who was expected to be what when they grew up. Some of which has left some scars along the way on each of us. The list is long…the list can be recited by us both, and the list is resoundingly unfair as you might expect. That is a subject for my Woman 2 Woman column this month in Focus on Women. Ahh, the one thing that we as sisters can absolutely always agree on!
Anyway, back to the differences. I adore my children, and I spend lots of time with them. However, I can not sleep with them and maintain a good quality nights’ sleep nor marital life, ahemmmm. So, as lovely as they are, they must sleep in their own beds. I cannot let my children wander around on our property for fear of drive by snatchings and vicious poisonous snakes. I cannot grind wheat let alone understand why anyone would want to when there’s a plethora of gorgeous, ready-to-eat breads just waiting to be bought at Whole Foods. In addition, my babies know all the specialty cupcakes at Starbucks and can ask for their own Frappacinos. Chocolate cake does not come from a box or from me but from Uncle Bruce at Amici restaurant. A vacation is not defined by a road trip to anywhere that involves staying in a family members’ home. We prefer New York City over Disney. At this point, my sister is rolling her eyes. I never said we were more “refined”…. the tone wasn’t snooty… was it? As for picking up eggs out of my yard…uh I’m thinking that would drive away business from the stench and encourage even more wildlife to trespass on the property. I do not have time to crochet, and although I am the biggest cheerleader for the breastfeeder, being a veteran of that myself, even I draw my line at the age of three. I have over 1,000 “friends” on Facebook, half of which I have never even met but who love my work. She thinks this is super weird and dangerous. I tell her it’s just business!
So, you see why and how we get into the circular arguments of parenting and how to spend ones time. I love her and admire that she feels she is living in what she calls “off the grid.” To each his own….right? She is an absolutely fabulous mother, as I am too or so I have been told, but we are as different as night is to day, and perhaps we have always been so. Whether Houston made us different or we were different all along it makes no difference. Our styles of parenting and thoughts about education and how to pass one’s time is equal to the other, not better than one or the other, and thankfully at the end of all these discussions, we always can agree at least on that! It is comforting to have her as she is my only sister. Despite the many differences, there is always compassion and love. And truth be told, my nephew enjoys a really good hotel thanks to his Auntie and has learned how to order some room service while my son has learned how to make homemade play dough and Victoria Ann now knows how to crochet! We are all learning… despite the differences!
