Why spoiling your children and spouse is OK

I just read this letter from a mother to her mother-in-law who not only passed away but during her life spoiled her children as much as she could, driving the boys’ mother insane. She later had regrets, but, I wonder, was she still slightly relieved grandma died before she could finish the damage? Now, this is what I say to all of you women: Your instinct to pamper and spoil children is an instinct you know produces happy, self-confident, thriving adults. Since when has psychiatry gotten things right, anyway? People who figured a lobotomy was for the benefit of the patient as well as people surrounding them? The same people who thought electric shocks would do people good? Should we truly listen to people who thought forcing orgasms on women would make them better behaved and controlled? Should we still respect people who pump the children full of drugs in order to make them behave less like children and more like zombies? Truly? These are the people we take advice from?

Then again, I know how you all like to take advice from childfree people, but I’m going to do so anyway, because I am more than just your average childfree rantster…

And I must say, I am one of those childfree people who get pissed off when mothers let their children stand on on public benches with their muddy shoes on, I am someone who gets irritated when the children are let to run around without any control at coffee shops and touch every vegetable at a supermarket while nobody bothers to wipe their noses… Yeah. I don’t mean that kind of spoiling, spoiling that stems from disengagement and tiredness and unhappiness of the parent who simply cannot fight their children anymore and has decided to let them go to shits for all they care – anything for peace and quiet. And why are they tired? Because they are fighting their natural instinct to spoil the kids silly, and are tired of choosing what is OK and what is not and how to navigate every god damned situation on a daily basis all the effin’ time… (Thank God I don’t have any.)

When a child is taught that there is everything and everything for them, that they are abundant, there is not a second that they need to wonder if their wish is going to be met, they will grow up thinking world is full of possibilities and that they need not to hold onto what they’ve got but give it away freely, because they know the next gift is just behind the corner. They can give to those who have less, or at least, they don’t have to worry so much about losing what they’ve got.

Now, I must admit. I was raised pretty spoiled. I was sneered at about  my brand clothing that I didn’t even know to appreciate, because I never thought it was anything special. But I never thought twice about what other kids wore, and I wouldn’t have known whether what they wore was brand or not, after all, it all looked pretty same to me, me them, all the same clothes. The kids who didn’t have what I had, they sneered at me, but I never even knew what they were sneering about until a lot, lot later in life. I just thought they hated me, period, and I didn’t blame them – I was a pretty boring kid.

The reason why I have this complex of feeling both abundant and thinking I was not much for company comes from the fact that my mother withheld her love from me in every way she could because she feared I would grow up “proud”. I had to fight for any appreciation and approval, and well into my 30’s I was screaming for her approval that I still haven’t received. She never said no to a toy however, and I got to pick my clothes as long as they were from the stores that she picked out – and they were brand stores only. She didn’t want me to be bullied because I had less than other kids. (Irony.)

She didn’t talk to her mother-in-law and my father’s sister for six months because they kept telling me what a beautiful child I was. When they were allowed back into my life, they were under strict instructeons to stop with the praise or it would go into my head. Tell you what.  I have a fucking mirror and I know what’s in it. I know I am beautiful and I learned that knowing it is a sin and probably being it is, too. It took me, however, until my 18th year to figure out that I wasn’t a complete dog after all. I realized this, because one day I noticed guys were checking me out, and they were smiling – and that happened because for the first time in my life I wasn’t constantly afraid of being judged. I was laughing with my friends and the guys took notice, and I knew what it was about; I was pretty, but still a nice person.

My self-esteem at 18, prior to that moment, was non-existent. I attribute this to my mother who strictly kept her praise in check. But as far as material good goes, I have never felt poor in my life, although I have also never really held a day job for long, simply because I have dreams that I need to fulfill, and none of those dreams include material good – I always had that before. Now I happily walk in 4 dollar shoes and K-Mart fashion feeling not an ounce less self-confident than what I did in Luhta, Nike, MicMac, Benetton and whatever other brands I wore. (I still don’t know which ones are the right brands.) What I don’t have, much, is love, people who throw their arms around me and tell me they love me – and mean that they love my soul. Why? When I meet someone I truly love, I meet them with apologies. I know I don’t deserve love, and I don’t trust people to love me for me, or would want to love me for me, because if I let them see who I am, they would detest me the way my mother did. She never saw anything in me but a signs of psychological traumas that she was responsible for; and she would go into a panicked state of fixing it all because she feared she must have gotten something wrong! She was raising me by the book and yet, somehow, I wasn’t coming out the other end like the tight edged square she was expecting to see.

Shall we mix this pot further? My father was different. Although he wasn’t handling the every-day responsibilities of raising us despite being married to my mother all my life to this day, he was sort of an accessory in my family unit. The one that caused trouble and made my mother’s life difficult and unmanageable by being too focused on his business and failing to be at dinner on time and not always knowing which suit or tie to wear when the latest batch of 15-year-olds, some of them our relatives, were celebrated for pledging themselves to God. He sort of filled the empty spaces that my mother left unattended, wherever he could find them – and there was one place he could find them; giving us love. He was quiet about it, he showed it in his eyes, his hugs and squeezes, quiet approval, and then, on an occasion telling us how we were the best thing that had ever happened to him, that we were the only thing he had ever done that he was truly proud of, apologized for not being better and more deserving with tears in his eyes, and I took that without a shadow of a doubt, although I argued that he is much more than what he gives himself credit for, and that everything that is good in me comes from him, he is a brilliant, fun, loving guy who knows how to live… My mother, on the other hand, said that we were the purpose of her life and without us, she would have nothing, and all I could do was to stare at her in complete disbelief: What the fuck are you talking about, you cold, heartless wrench, you never wanted us, you never loved us, you’ve hated every minute of parenting us, your life would be brilliant if we weren’t in it, and you are telling me that WE are the purpose of your life? That is one shitty purpose, considering I am a constant disappointment to you, and thus, your life has been wasted. And writing this, I know my brother doesn’t feel the same resentment as I do, because he always fit the square better than I do. And I am not calling him a square, it’s just that his natural alignments and talents were more ordinary than those of mine, and my mother felt she got his upbringing right. She pushed the right buttons and programming with the experience she got from ruining me and my brother turned out OK. And now, she feels quilt for using me as the training piece, not realizing that I am what I am and there is no changing it, and she certainly didn’t make me what I am, she simply took away my right to believe what I was was OK. Brilliant even.

And my mother, also, keeps beating herself up about not having hugged me enough. (That woman is sooo fucked up with guilt!) Now granted, she could have probably hugged me more often, but she should have also loved me more. Of course, her definition of love is “I have fed you, clothed you, and given you money” and that should be it, but she has never felt joy of me being who I am – my definition of love. My dad didn’t hug me all that often either, but every moment that he was present in the room I felt his love for me. All I felt from my mother was absolute terror of what the hell am I and how twisted I was… it was like she was fearing she was raising a serpent, a fear she had thanks to too many self-help child psychology books that she is obsessed with. And the irony is that now I am writing the same stuff trying to correct what they wrote – with nobody’s permission but my own. (Fuck you Freud, as much as I respect you, fuck you. For the rest of you: you might have screwed up at work and in your parenting pursuits, but at least you’re not Freud!)

Once I got over my belief I was ugly, I did find it a lot easier to trust men than women. I could easily find a connection to men, and I could relate to them in a way most women cannot; the way they are treated by a lot of women; with expectations rather than pure, unconditional love. And yet, I’m only now learning to trust my instinct and to approach men with the belief that they might actually want me, too, like really, and that I might have to encourage them a little. I am always on the edge though, asking them to tell me if I am what they want – not blaming them for a second for turning away… Because I feel I am a bit to take in – I do appreciate myself, only I don’t think others feel the same way about me. It is a weird kind of self-esteem to have, to grow up knowing approval and love is not something I’m given, yet, internally hold oneself to such reverend that I didn’t believe my mother had any right to treat me the way she did. She killed my trust in people’s ability to recognize a good thing when they see it, and I never thought of myself as the girl everyone would love to have in their lives. I just figured that I am what I am and when I’ll find someone who likes what I am, all will be good… But it’s not quite that simple; He brings in his own insecurities, and while he might see me realistically, his view on himself would be just as affected by his parents reluctance to show him love. Added to that, the more gifted the child is, the less parents feel they should “feed their ego”, and the more their classmates want to point out their failures rather than their virtues, and the less willing people are to jump to “the bandwagon” of their admirers that they assume are many. Blatantly gifted people also receive a fraction of the praise others do, because everyone thinks they know this already and are tired of hearing it. This creates narcissists, who know they deserve more praise and are simply dying to hear some kind words, and when they realize kindness is not for them, they start showing symptoms of under-appreciation, turning them into complete and utter monsters as a result. (And what do people do when they hear someone is a bit narcissistic? Make sure the last thing they are given is praise and love.)

In the mean while, we are artificially lifting the self-confidence of those who don’t really have much going for them. We give praise when we feel we shouldn’t and withhold it when we feel it bubbling up without trying. Somehow, according to child psychology, the kids who don’t have much going for them are going to be benefiting from the uplift of self-confidence, while the smart kids are going to have the praise and love “raise to their heads” while the less talented should be able to balance the equation on their own and grow up with realistic view on themselves. (Ever wondered why all the important jobs are manned by morons?)

There was another trend in bringing up kids at some stage… That free range style parenting, I will have to google the term; where the kids would be allowed to do whatever they wanted without feedback from parents. I will have to put my spoon into that one too, and suggest that wouldn’t it be the best way to raise children to give them whatever comes out naturally, because that is probably what they actually need to hear and closer to how the outside world will react to them too, more or less, apart from the fact that most likely the kids parents love them more than the rest of the world. Assuming that if a fairly emotionally balanced parent loses it with their children, the chances are that by that same level, as an adult, the kid would be facing jail time outside the home.

Parenting principles and what are you really teaching them:

Sharing: You are teaching that there is a limit to what is available (even if there was not) so count that everyone gets their equal share. Be mad at those who don’t give you enough, because they are being mean. In other words, you are teaching your children jealousy and bean counting. You are teaching your children to focus on what others have in comparison to themselves, and to be comparing wealth and assets of others to those of themselves. In real world, however, things are never even, and they never should be, because there is such a thing as “earn”. Some people will have more than your kids, or less than your kids, and they will have to learn to be at peace with it, especially with having less because there is very little a person can do about it other than scream, shout and throw tantrums calling them “demonstrateons”. These are people who demand rich people to give to the poor because somehow, what they’ve worked for does not belong to them but belongs to everyone – because, after all, we still live in a fucking kindergarten.

On the contrast, if you teach your child that what is his is his, he will also regard the possesseons of others theirs, and will learn not to be jealous of others, because what belongs to someone else belongs to them, not you. Also teaches you not to steal because you don’t feel the constant nagging feeling that “that TV should be mine, not theirs, because they had two new TV’s while I only had this one!”

(I was never taught to share, and I am the least jealous person you have ever met.)

Monogamy: On the topic of sharing, teaching people that one should only ever have one partner is equating people to commodities who should be rationed out evenly like bread during wartime. How do you feel if someone would tell you that you are only allowed to have one friend at a time or one child at a time? How loudly would you scream at me? Then why do we count lovers like you were entitled to one of mine simply because I had two who loved me and nobody wanted you? Like fuck you, why should one of my lovers lower themselves to be yours, if who he really loves is me? Monogamy is teaching the same jealousy as learning to share, wrath over feeling entitled to something that really isn’t yours. I won’t go further into that, but just point you to this post.

Self-soothing: You will teach the child to handle themselves and never to trust someone else to be there for him. Good strategy if you are training him for a life in prison.

To not play favorites: This is a tricky one, because on the other hand, we should probably feel more or less equal with our siblings, then again, trying not to have favorites, will probably send the lesser favorite past the real favorite because you wind up paying more attention to the one that is less of a favorite and deliberately ignoring the favorite. (To be honest, the freakiest feeling I’ve got is that this might be my mum’s problem.) (Playing favorites, strictly speaking doesn’t mean having favorites, but pinning one sibling against the other, which, obviously is a parenting tactic from Satan himself.)

This is what I want to say: I know parents have their favorites, it is natural. So while I would advice you to be mindful of it – a sick example but poignant: You wouldn’t have sex with your spouse in front of the rest of your family no matter how much in love you are because that is between you two, without that making it fake behaviour, right? The same way, you can keep the biggest shows of affection to your favorite child out of the other one’s field of vision, and you need not to make a pact with the favorite either to never speak of it, they won’t unless you make a fuss about it. Simply remember to buy about the same amount of presents and toys and balance the financial aspect of your love, and always, if the other one notices, simply explain to them that people are like that, they love other personalities more than others, and it simply happens that his/her sibling is more like me than you, and that your lesser favorite will, without a shadow of a doubt, find someone who loves them the same way – and even better (no explanations needed). Just make sure they know that there is nothing wrong with the way that they are, they are simply a bit unlucky to have you as a parent.

On the other hand, once you release your fear of loving one more than the other, you will probably find yourself quite in love with all of your children, simply because now you are free to observe them all for who they are.

Don’t talk to strangers: You are teaching them that this world is full of evil people who are all out there to take something from your child, or to hurt them somehow. Guess why people feel like they can’t live without their guns?

Teach your daughter that men are all after just the one thing… -saga: She is not worth love for her soul but men only want her for her body. This is the assumption she’s going to have. If she finds a man that appears to be good, she should be cautious of his motives. Therefore she will learn never to trust a man, to always withhold her love from him and to be always without a complete, trusting love relationship, because her fears will keep her from ever trusting a man because of his gender.

Also, by teaching children about sexuality you are taking their innocence before they have even tried sex. The only thing they should be taught, arguably, is that sex leads to children unless precauteons are taken, and leave the rest to them. The one thing I have been forever grateful to my mother is that she never touched this topic with a six foot pole, but organized someone to teach about birth control to us at school when we were 12 – one of our classmates was held back a year and was already 13 so she figured it would be good if she wasn’t singled out for this but we would all receive the same training at the same time. At the same time, I think deep down she was afraid I was already, or about to be fucking someone… I freaking wish! But the point being that it is easier to learn about these things from an outsider – unless you have a really good relationship with your parents, and I am afraid very few people do.

Teach your son to respect women by making an assumption that women don’t like or want sex and need constant protection from it: You will teach your son that his touch will make a girl dirty and therefore he is dirty, a girl is pure. You are teaching both genders that girls who have sex are dirty. When respect of women is tied to her sexual behaviour, you can rest assured that when she becomes sexually active, she no longer feels deserving of respect. Also, a woman who does want sex is someone who shouldn’t be respected, obviously. Also you should not teach a girl to wait for a set number of months to test a new boyfriend on how serious he or she is, because that results to a relationship both or the other are having only to reach that goal period, and in a very real way true love is nothing but impatient. “Serious” also has no place in a true love relationship.

To take respect of women to the idea that women need to be protected from men gives girls the opportunity to take chances because everything can always be blamed on the boys who failed to “respect them”. She can get blind drunk in a skirt shorter than her shirt, stumble around barely conscious, and if a guy then does not respect her – shame on him, right? This creates an awesome opportunity for her to pick a fight with a guy, and to victimize herself because once you don’t have to be accountable for respectable behaviour, you can blame everyone else for your miserable life – tempting if you lack all ability to acquire a good life. And mind you, I have worn the shortest dresses of all my friends and by no means telling you that they’d justify a rape, but regardless of the dress, I behaved in a way a guy can respect; I took them as equals, didn’t slap them if they thought I was sexy, and I didn’t wear the skirt as a bait but as a lure if you know what I mean.

By teaching men to be respectful of ALL women despite their behaviour creates an interesting situation: on one hand, the choice of respect falls on the man. If he’s a good guy, he will go out of his way to respect women – not knowing how to do so because it is unnatural to respect everyone across the board. Secondly, if he’s a bad guy, he can, by simple show of disrespect upset and shatter and insult any woman he chooses, simply because she thinks all men should be respectful of all women equally. When that expectation is not met, she may feel raped by a simple glance at her boobs, where as level-headed women are struggling to find a guy who would feel free to show her his desire without being afraid of being slapped for it.

I am tired of all of this. Can’t we just live life and forget large brush strokes? Instincts. Feeling. True connection. All of that is lost in the jungle of rules nobody knows how to follow. If you wonder why people feel disconnection, this is why. Not because of the Internet or mobile devices that are more to the point the tools of connection to those who truly love you for you, and disconnection from only those who would ignore you anyway.

I also touched on the same topic yesterday. Apology about what I’ve said about women

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