One of the reasons I can forego returning to work while I start freelancing is that I’m watching my 11 year old cousin during the summer. Apparently kids are f*cking expensive and my aunt would have been paying $1000 for summer camp. Instead, she let’s me live here rent free in exchange for my kid-sitting services.
We’re a week into summer vacation and he’s truly a great kid. But…
I was raised very differently. My parents were SUPER strict and I felt like they were purposely and consistently trying to kill my vibe. They were controlling and I was (and still am) dead set on doing my own thing. As you can imagine, everything was a battle. What I wore, where I went, how I spoke to them, how I spoke to others, how I did pretty much anything…EVERYTHING was a battle. I hated it and vowed to never be as controlling as my parents.
Once I hit my early twenties, I gained a little perspective. They were young and, like most parents, didn’t know what they were doing. I also realized that their parents were just as strict. They really just did the best they could…and they raised some pretty decent kids.
But I still wasn’t going to raise my kids that way,
My aunt has a very different parenting style. I don’t have kids and don’t know sh*t about parenting in general, so I can’t really say it’s better or worse. Just…different. The biggest differences are that he doesn’t do any chores yet and manners aren’t as huge of a deal as they were for me. That sounds like I’m bad-mouthing her parenting. I’m not. She’s teaching him a lot of things that I don’t think I learned. She’s great at saving money and has taught him how to do it. That wasn’t a lesson I learned and now I struggle with that. She’s given him space to be super honest with her about how he’s feeling and that wasn’t something we learned how to do. Like I said, her parenting style isn’t worse or better; it’s just not what I’m used to.
The differences between how I was raised and how he’s being raised have come up early and often though. I find myself correcting him much more than I’m comfortable doing. For the most part, I try to keep my mouth shut so as to not step on his mom’s toes. I also try not to come across as TOO brutal. After all, he’s not my child. But far to often I hear myself blurt out “Did you ask for that {whatever he has just picked and kept walking)?” or “Put some socks on with those sneakers”.
We’re only one week into summer…and I’ve realized this: I’m turning into my dad.
All of a sudden, I understand why it was so important that we learned how to clean the house early. I understand why they said no to us sometimes. Why they needed to know where we were at and who we were with. Though were a united front on most of these things, my dad was the enforcer. I can already tell that I’ll be the same way when I have children. I also know that there are things I want to teach them that I didn’t really learn. Still…
I’m turning into my dad.
Messy Adulting 