A quick disclaimer, particularly for any of my blog posts in the site’s “Fatherhood” category. This is not advice. I am not an expert. I do not have a child. I will soon, but at the time of writing this, I don’t. But today, here are my thoughts.
It was late at night when my girlfriend told me she was pregnant. I had been working the “bar shift,” working until past midnight as a Lyft driver. A symptom of both boredom and affection, I would call her at least once an hour, but tonight, a half dozen calls went unanswered over the course of several hours. Eventually, I was overcome with worry and made my way home.
She played it cool and asked me how my day was. I gave the ho-hum response. It was a forgetful day.
“How was yours?” I asked her.
She burst out crying, buried her head in my chest, and whimpered, “you’re gonna be so mad.”
But I wasn’t mad at all. I have to admit that I wasn’t ecstatic either. That’s the thing about unplanned pregnancies - you haven’t done any of the planning yet. If anything, I began to make a checklist of the things I figured had to be done before this bugger’s arrival. None of those things though was related to the actual child-rearing.
That's the thing about unplanned pregnancies - you haven't done any of the planning yet.
My headspace immediately took me to a logistical place. How could I make more money? How do I secure adequate hospital facilities? Where are we going to live long-term? Those were the questions I was trying to answer in those immediate days.
I think readers can interpret this in one of two ways: either a) “Wow, he’s really taking on that father-provider type role,” or b) “Wow, a typical man, never considered the cognitive-emotional development of his child.”
Now, I’ll be honest, I’ve spent very little time talking to parents my age up to this point. I’d like to believe that this is the normal evolution of the parenting mindset (something, something, hierarchy of needs, something, something).
But after a little reflection, I also believe that there are many people who consider, maybe even obsess, over the nonphysical needs of their future children for years before they even have the partner secured, let alone the child.
I have a friend/blogger/business owner who is, at the time of writing this, 9 months pregnant named Jessica. Through social media, she has extensively discussed the decision-making process of how she’s living her life as a pregnant woman and what she and her partner plan on doing post-pregnancy. Jessica shares the ups and downs of her pregnancy in a way that feels candid and raw. And she has opened my eyes to a world of parenting science that I didn’t know existed. (Admittedly I have unfollowed nearly every casual acquaintance who has become pregnant. If I don’t envision myself leaving a congratulatory comment on birth day, I typically unfollow. I’m just not that interested). What I previously imagined as nuance, she presents as a stake in the ground. In other words, there are schools of thought that I didn’t realize parents around the world felt so strongly about.
For example, in a recent post, she talks about the countless time and energy she took curating the perfect baby registry for the kind of child she is hoping to raise. “Organic or non-organic? Silicone or plastic? Baby-led weaning? Purees? Montessori methods?... Sleep training, no sleep training? Swaddles? What kinds of swaddles? Disposable diapers or cloth diapers? Elimination communication?”
And if you didn’t know what half those words meant in the context of child-rearing, you’re not alone. Her post immediately took me down a series of Wikipedia and YouTube rabbit holes.
In that post, Jessica then apologizes to her previously-pregnant friends for purchasing gifts for them outside of their baby registry. She argues that this may seem well-intentioned, but it undermines the work that goes into very personal decisions.
Across social platforms, she provides resources for other people reading/watching her content to explore and come to their own conclusions. Now, Jessica doesn’t appear to be judging parents for having a differing (or in my case, nonexistent) opinion on a particular parent raising technique. She’s just there to share her journey. A latent consequence of her content has been that I have begun to reflect on the version of ideal parenting I want to manifest.
At this point in time, 100+ days before our expected due date, I don’t have a concrete answer for the kinds of diapers I’m going to use with my child or thought on where how far away from me he’ll sleep. But I do have one rule that I don’t want to break: I’m not going to lie to my child.
But I do have one rule that I don’t want to break: I’m not going to lie to my child.
Are you rolling your eyes? Is your interest piqued? Have I been too abstract? Is this unrealistic? Yes to all of the above? Let me dive a little deeper.
I present to you these quick qualifiers. I actively avoid the parenting corner of TikTok. I don’t follow any of the influencers sharing how they parent (and by extension, how you should). I’m not deep in the peer-reviewed parenting sciences, either. The conclusions I come to about parenting today are based on my lived experiences and the avenues of logic I’ve been trained to take. Similarly, the conclusions that you, my reading audience, come to are also based on your experience and avenues of logic. And I hope, but don’t anticipate, that I’ll be given the space to be fluid in my stances. When presented with new evidence or experience, I might feel that a specific “parenting hack” has become obsolete or harmful. In response, I’ll be changing my behaviors and mindsets as changes in my lived experience arise.
But again, 100+ days before the birth of my son, I’m trying to find the logic behind some of the lies that we routinely and deliberately tell our children.
I’ve never explored parents.com. A Google search for “lies we tell our children” brought me to an article on their website. Parents is a group whose goal is to “work hard to provide accurate, reliable, credible, engaging, and balanced parenting information to [their] readers.”
At the moment it took my laptop to load the page, I guess I assumed I’d agree with the parents: that the lies on this list are justifiable. Many of them seem innocent enough. But I’m under the impression that others are manipulative, even cruel.
“But Alex,” says the reader who actually has children, “you don’t get it yet. Just wait ‘til you have kids.” Or maybe it’s, “Alex, sometimes it's not worth the headache.” “Kids just aren’t ready for that kind of stuff.”
You may be right, I’ll certainly change stances on some things when my children are born. But my mother also told me I’d be more conservative as I got older. And look how that’s gone.
The first lie on the list is from Michelle, a blogger, who says “I tell my kids when the ice cream truck song plays its songs it is out of ice cream.” I get it, I do. I’m not entirely naive to the annoyance of a pestering and tantruming child. I’ve been an older cousin, occasional babysitter, and children’s museum employee. Kids can be little assholes without even knowing that they’re being little assholes.
The way I’ve interpreted this though is that Michelle, and the thousands of parents that have told some variation of this lie, are missing out on an opportunity to teach life skills and cultural norms. Are we supposed to ignore a teaching opportunity in patience, moderation, money management, health, and communication skills? I think a lot of parents are going to read this and say, “yes, we are going to ignore this teaching opportunity for the sake of my sanity,” or something along those lines.
On the Topic of the Santa Claus
Lies to get kids to stop asking about food are acceptable, it seems. But what about the others on this list that deal with more serious topics?
The Parents article had 25 white lies from readers and bloggers - 7 about food, 7 about general behavior (i.e, “The sign at the store says ‘no whining’”), 5 about mythical creatures (Tooth Fairy, Santa, etc.), 4 about entertainment (“Sorry, we don’t get that channel anymore”), 1 about death, and 1 about sex.
I don’t want to get into every one of them, but I’m under the impression that there must be a breaking point where the routineness of these lies has the potential to break trust-building. Am I hyperbolizing here?
This is all speculation, theoretical. Obviously being the parent is different than any of the other occasions where I’ve filled in as a caretaker. The hours I’ve put in as a babysitter/etc don’t compare, and I realize that.
But today, I’m asking myself if our children are made better by a reality that presents Santa Claus (and the rest of the mythical gang) as factual. Is it good to believe that you’re always being watched and that performative and subjective “good” behavior has a tangible reward?
I’m not convinced that children are made better humans from this. I’m not convinced that they’re made worse, either though.
On the one hand, presenting mythical creatures as truth can feel manipulative. For years, I sat upright in my bed, fighting off sleep for as long as I could. Maybe it was hours, maybe it was minutes. But sometime in the late 1990s, I excitedly told my parents about the sleighbells I heard the night before. I changed my behavior to experience a reality that did not exist. And those who told me it knew of its fabrication.
But on the other, there are many benefits to accepting and believing in Santa. Firstly, a child becomes integrated into a massive societal connection. From the kids at their school to television news anchors, everyone is talking about Santa.
And a latent consequence of coming out of the Santa Reality is the conquering of a major cognitive hurdle. Now for some kids, the Santa Reality is ripped suddenly from them by someone older than them. In my experience, this is a tale often told with a bit of self-deprecating humor. But for most, coming out of the Santa Reality could be one of the first exercises in reasoning and logic. And this rarely seems like a traumatic experience. But to remove oneself from the Santa Reality requires answers to complex questions. And the critical thinking it takes to (not) answer questions like “How does he deliver gifts to 7,000,000,000 in one night,” certainly takes time and reflection.
So maybe this article has become less about definitively stating “I will not lie to my children,” and more about exploring “how does this lie benefit my child?”
On the subject of religion
Well… You’ll just have to wait for that one.
What are your thoughts? Are white lies harmless? Is “it’s not worth the headache,” or “they’re too young to learn about that” still justifiable reasons to lie? Are there benefits to some of the lies we tell our children? I’d love to hear from you guys.
Thanks again for letting me Overshare.
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