When I Was Your Age...

Last week my family and I went up to the snow to ski and play. We all had a good time, especially the kids. I really enjoyed seeing them play, and especially seeing my youngest son experience snow for the first time. Unfortunately his first contact with the snow was with his nose after bouncing out of a sled going down a small hill. It was hard snow that was days old so his little nose got a pretty good scrape. He cried then and I stayed with him until he was done without urging him to stop crying, and within minutes of his accident he was happily exploring this new world. My daughter also had fun playing and sledding and even trying out standing on ski's for the first time. She didn't really ski, but enjoyed getting pulled around and probably next year she will be ready for some lessons. Then there is my stepson, the double black diamond skier. He had a great time, and spent the whole time we were there skiing and playing with his friend. I really enjoyed watching them all have so much fun, but I also had some other feelings that I kept hidden.

I felt resentful. I didn't dwell on it, and I stayed clear of self-pity, but still that dark feeling was there and I knew it.

Where is this resentmemt from?

This resentment comes up mostly with my stepson. I think that this is mainly due to the fact that his father has always treated me as an adversary. It often becomes difficult for me to separate my reaction to my stepsons normal 12 year old arrogance and my resentment of his father’s rudeness. I also feel Resentment when I am feeling not appreciated and exhausted from performing all of the duties of being a parent; from carrying luggage up a hill through a small path in the snow to carrying the baby all day and changing diapers, from doing the endless cycle of dishes and giving everyone attention about their upsets and disappointments before helping them go to bed. Don't get me wrong, I love being a conscience and caring parent. But the amount of giving that it requires is incredible, and can often lead to such a depleted state that only other parents can truly understand.

Here is an example: during my recent trip with my family to a cabin in the snowy mountains my stepson at one point complained that the trip was a complete failure and that he was misable. This was after I carried everybodies luggage through 50 feet of snow as I was trying to get the baby ready for bed. I felt really resentful towards him then, and I really wanted to scold him and say something that would have sounded frightenly like my parents. "When I was your age", I wanted to say followed by how tough my childhood was so that he would see the lack of appreciation he was displaying. But I stopped myself from saying this. In fact, I never really understood why old people would sometimes say things like "when I was your age..." blah, blah, blah. Now I do.

The truth is this: to be a good parent I have to be very careful not to let my reactions to my misplaced childhood determine my reactions to my children, and even my wife. I have always liked the saying, "It's never too late to have a happy childhood", but there is a time and place for everything. And regardless of what I have experienced growing up, I need to let my children have the best life they can have without guilt or fear. I am overjoyed and I am proud that I have the strength to realize this. The truth that I can give to my children is that when I was their age, I would have been as happy and as joyful and as curious as they are right now. And it's all good. It's all good...