Too Much Responsibility

I think I could get rid of a lot of my anxiety if I just had the answer to one simple question: Do people end up the way they are more because of nature or more because of nurture? I would so love to hear, with certainty, that the answer is nature. I just love coming across studies and stories of twins separated at birth who meet as adults and find their lives are uncannily similar. For example, both twins love to play the cello and garden, they are both huge football fans, and both have four kids. Because, if I knew for certain that nature plays the biggest role, I could lean back, exhale, and stop worrying so much about what I am doing for my children. 

You see, I am beginning to suspect that I feel that the quality and substance of my children’s futures resides entirely on me. I think I must expose them to everything because they will never find their interests or talents if I don’t. I must model and talk about behaviors or they will never learn to socialize well. I must act impassioned about every imaginable topic or they may never discover that they love that thing. I become paralyzed with fear when they have a negative experience doing something because I’m afraid they will be turned off forever. I feel I must instill an appreciation for art, athletics, culture, learning, nature, books, health, and everything else because they will never develop one on their own. 

I know this is totally neurotic. I can just hear the voices of reason saying that I should have more faith in my kids to find their own way. I can hear the voices telling me that as long as I do expose them to things and love and support and encourage them, then that’s all they need.  But try as I might I cannot shake this….feeling….it’s not exactly a belief, because I believe that it’s a crazy way to think, but I still feel it deep in my bones. I know that if one of my kids really does go off track and say, runs with a bad crowd, fails out of school, has no ambition, etc that I will feel totally and utterly responsible and that had I done something differently I could have prevented it. I try to be the voice of reason for myself. I tell myself, some kids are raised with everything and grow up to do nothing and be miserable. Some kids are given nothing and grow up to do extraordinary things and be extraordinary people. Some kids end up completely different from every other member of their family.  

I also know that if kids were really just born as blank slates and totally programmable, then my kids would enjoy spicy food with vegetables, meat and starch all mixed together. They would love to dance, would be excited to learn to ski and be quite social. I know that when my 6-year old tells me he doesn’t want to take the training wheels off because he finds bicycles “very unstable,” and then refuses to ride one altogether if he has to wear a helmet, it has nothing to do with me. I know it wouldn’t really be different if he had a different color bike or if we had the yard covered in blacktop.  

It helps having a second kid. Our youngest son is so different from the oldest in so many ways that I have been forced to realize that, it isn’t just me!  Both boys have interests that neither their father nor I share at all, which should also be a helpful sign that they are really their own people and will find their own way.  So why can’t I let got of my over-the-top sense of responsibility for every aspect of who they become? I acknowledge that I do have hopes and expectations that I wish I didn’t. I can’t shake my belief that athletic boys are going to have an easier time in life, and I worry that I gave my boys inferior genes in that area since I come from a relatively non-athletic family. I worry that there are an excessive number of geeky male genes in my family, and that I’ve passed those on. I’m not sure what that means exactly, but I know I feel that way.  

I ask myself, what do I really want for my kids? Does it really matter to me if they love mystery novels or love to ski or play oboe? Does it matter to me if they are the most popular kid at school or the most handsome? Does it matter to me if they grow up to be artists or scientists or teachers or lawyers? It doesn’t.  

I make a list. I hope that my kids have good priorities and values. I hope they’re kind. I hope they work hard at things. I hope they can make a living and have hobbies. I hope they have healthy relationships. I hope they are responsible and have the ability to solve problems. I hope they are happy, in the sense that they are able to appreciate the good things in their lives and know how to stride in a healthy way for the things they want. I hope they are healthy. I hope they are contributing members of society.  Whew. I think that’s really it, or at least most of it anyway. I’m sure I’ll think of more later. That list may be a tall order, but I think those are things I really can help my kids with. What a relief. Maybe I’ll try to relax a little and not lose sleep over whether or not they learn to ice skate in the next year or so.

Tags: children, Christine Tuccille Merry, kids, motherhood, nature vs. nurture, responsibility