One of the most normal and touching things that people in the U.S. do as loving adults invested in an infant is to dream and hope on its behalf. These hopes are often quite specific and usually follow a pretty standard script:
It is not that I am against having dreams for our children. As I started out saying, I think it is normal, it is beautiful, and it is touching.
I worry about what happens when the dreamers loose perspective, and specifically what will happen if this dreamer looses perspective. What if I imbue his future with visions of specific accomplishments that I think he should want or will benefit him so much that I eventually--through no fault of his own--set him up to disappoint me when the collections of little details that I had envisioned for him did not turn out as they could have?
So, how do I reap the benefits of hoping and dreaming without risking an obsession with the ultimately non-important? The solution I've been considering involves hoping (and shaping) qualities not accomplishments, and most importantly those qualities that will make him a person that enriches the world under most any scenario (including scenarios I'd rather not imagine). I hope this allows me to raise a happy and worthwhile person, which seems far more important than whether he turns out to be a pipefitter, a pianist, a prince or a pauper.
As of this morning, I've worked it down to three things.
First, I hope he will have unrelenting kindness. I hope he grows up to be the type of anonymous person you'll be happy exists on the day you find yourself in need. I hope he works everyday to make the world a better place in a million small ways (and, for extra credit, a couple big ones) without ever caring if anyone notices, because perfect compassion should be so delicately woven into its holder's life that it most often goes unnoticed.
Second, I hope he has unfailing integrity. That he lives in a way that respects his rights and those of everyone else. That he realizes that there cannot be peace when its essential elements are watered down, and that because of this he is unfailing when it comes to principled decisions and pragmatic with just about everything else.
Finally, I hope he is more comfortable in his skin than I am in mine. There is an old-timey wisdom about "people who can look you in the eye." To me, genuine (gen-yoo-wine) in-the-eye-lookers are people who carry themselves comfortably in the word because they own who they are. Following a sage mentor's advice to "fake it until I make it," I've spent a lifetime looking people in eye; however, the end point--being comfortable rather than just looking comfortable--has not yet arrived. I hope that if my son can be the first and second of the things I wish for him, this last one will come by default.
Any other hopes, whether they involve piano, ping pong, paintball, punk rock, plastic explosives, or Phi Beta Kappa, I'll leave to the other people that love him.
I hope the baby is [FAVORITE QUALITY], so that [DESIRABLE ACCOMPLISHMENT] happens"Say for instance:
I hope the baby is BRILLIANT, so that he CAN GET INTO A GOOD COLLEGE,"or:
I hope the baby is BEAUTIFUL, so that he CAN MORE EASILY FIND LOVE,"and even the less ambitious form of the previous example:
I hope the baby is AT LEAST NOT GOOFY LOOKING, so that he CAN GO TROUGH LIFE WITHOUT GETTING PICKED ON."Although I imagine some specific hopes are more common than others, their overall range is as wildly diverse as are the people that have them. If you add in your favorite qualities--say sensitive, athletic, clever, tough, creative, unique--and your favorite list of accomplishments--say becomes a poet, or a singer, or a movie star, gets an MVP, stars in a reality show--you begin to develop an idea of the full range of the human experience, and--getting to my point--of the full range of ways we can run the risk of setting up our children to fail to meet some relatively random expectations.
It is not that I am against having dreams for our children. As I started out saying, I think it is normal, it is beautiful, and it is touching.
I worry about what happens when the dreamers loose perspective, and specifically what will happen if this dreamer looses perspective. What if I imbue his future with visions of specific accomplishments that I think he should want or will benefit him so much that I eventually--through no fault of his own--set him up to disappoint me when the collections of little details that I had envisioned for him did not turn out as they could have?
So, how do I reap the benefits of hoping and dreaming without risking an obsession with the ultimately non-important? The solution I've been considering involves hoping (and shaping) qualities not accomplishments, and most importantly those qualities that will make him a person that enriches the world under most any scenario (including scenarios I'd rather not imagine). I hope this allows me to raise a happy and worthwhile person, which seems far more important than whether he turns out to be a pipefitter, a pianist, a prince or a pauper.
As of this morning, I've worked it down to three things.
First, I hope he will have unrelenting kindness. I hope he grows up to be the type of anonymous person you'll be happy exists on the day you find yourself in need. I hope he works everyday to make the world a better place in a million small ways (and, for extra credit, a couple big ones) without ever caring if anyone notices, because perfect compassion should be so delicately woven into its holder's life that it most often goes unnoticed.
Second, I hope he has unfailing integrity. That he lives in a way that respects his rights and those of everyone else. That he realizes that there cannot be peace when its essential elements are watered down, and that because of this he is unfailing when it comes to principled decisions and pragmatic with just about everything else.
Finally, I hope he is more comfortable in his skin than I am in mine. There is an old-timey wisdom about "people who can look you in the eye." To me, genuine (gen-yoo-wine) in-the-eye-lookers are people who carry themselves comfortably in the word because they own who they are. Following a sage mentor's advice to "fake it until I make it," I've spent a lifetime looking people in eye; however, the end point--being comfortable rather than just looking comfortable--has not yet arrived. I hope that if my son can be the first and second of the things I wish for him, this last one will come by default.
Any other hopes, whether they involve piano, ping pong, paintball, punk rock, plastic explosives, or Phi Beta Kappa, I'll leave to the other people that love him.
