Meditations on Parenthood

Aiden and I have settled in nicely. Still no stomach bugs, though adjusting to the heat, humidity, and mosquitos seems an endless process. We have a beautiful top floor flat with a small pool down below and a Cambodian Montessori school attached. Our brief foray into the world of expat French school was quickly squelched as I saw too many depressed and aggressive children forced to sit still in circles and repeat information by rote. Now, I know it’s important to learn discipline, and to be able to sit still during a lesson. But first thing in the morning when a three year old has just caught a tiny frog in the nearby water basin, the last thing he wants to do is be forced to sit still in a room and repeat French numerals!

I spoke with a young French volunteer working in PP for the summer who explained to me that the French kindergarten system is the same everywhere, and that kids are rarely happy or have fun while “learning”. Now perhaps he was projecting his own experience, but it was enough food for thought that I’ve moved Aiden to the Cambodian Montessori where focus is on play. The children are more gentle and joyous, though clear English is rarely spoken, much less French! Still, I think I’ve made the right decision even though there is a part of me that wonders if I should be pushing kiddo to accept a more rigorous and structured system. I assume this will be and is an ongoing dilemma for parents who want the best for their children. On the one hand, I am fortunate that it is only me having to consider these things, without negotiation and possibly different views of a co-parent. On the other hand, it is only me having to consider these things, without the help and support of a co-parent. And so it is.

To compensate for taking him out of French school, I’m trying to make a point of speaking more French generally and having brief vocabulary lessons every day. This morning we spent time together feeding the poissons (fish) and then counting birds (in French!) from our hammock on the porch. This is not our greatest struggle here in Cambodia, but it one among others.

A far greater dilemma is about safety and cultural expectations here. It’s quite difficult coming from a Western background where personal safety is utmost, and an entire industry has grown around creating the boundaries to keep our children safe. Here in Cambodia that is most certainly not the case. For example, the small pool downstairs has no fence whatsoever surrounding it, and there aren’t even little stairs to enter slowly if need be. I have already lost hours of sleep over this, as well as contemplating all the other various means and ways that Aiden could be hurt in this chaotic and often boundary-less city. My landlady, who also heads the Montessori school, says Western children aren’t very smart about some things, and need repeated surveillance to make sure they don’t wander into traffic, run on the slippery sides of pools (as Aiden did when he bonked his head), go near swimming pools, or otherwise do stupid things. I argued that the Cambodian children I’ve seen may be better behaved but not necessarily due their intelligence, moreso out of subservience and a lack of freedom to explore and be curious. On this we agreed. So there needs to be a middle ground, a gentle respect developed but also a long lead given for kids to explore, be curious, and also, yes, make mistakes. What a fine line this is because if anything ever happened – God Forbid –could you ever forgive yourself for being so permissive?

Flash back to Bradford, England, where a kind of paranoia is so pervasive, I’m not sure many children have a childhood at all. Cameras are poised everywhere and headlines scream of pedophilia cases at least every other day, to the point where parents tell their children to avoid everyone, and they do the same. Whereas in the US I could easily strike up a conversation with another mom in a park, and possibly have a play date set for the following week, in Bradford I’ve only set one playdate -- with a mom in one of my classes. Instead I’ve been told that I should “check a website” to see what might be available for kids in Bradford. Part of this is due the demographic there – Pakistanis (who make up the majority population) are quite insular – and part of it is a larger ethos of fear. One English couple held their child on a tight leash – inside a gated playground!! -- and didn’t let her interact with others, literally yanking her backwards if she began to engage. A case of child abuse as far as I’m concerned, but sadly common in Northern England. So no, I don’t believe in safety at any cost.

As I hung laundry on the roof this morning and tried to shake myself awake after a turbulent night spent churning these issues over in my mind, I wondered why I should be so fraught at all (ok, I have to admit, I also just finished reading Into the Wild, by Jon Krakauer about young Chris McCandless who wanted to spend the summer living off the land in the Alaskan wilderness and unfortunately never made it out. His quest for adventure was not unlike any young person’s need for a rite of passage, a means of proving oneself as we enter adulthood. He made some mistakes, as we all do; just that his proved to be fatal. Never the best for late night dreamlife.) I came back to the Middle Eastern saying, Inshallah: God Willing. In Iraq they use it after everything, whether it be the desire for a healthy life or the desire to meet you the next day for lunch. It will happen, God Willing. And so I thought about this in reference to my stay here, and to our life of adventure generally. That we will overcome all of our difficulties, Inshallah. We will stay safe in this sometimes dangerous and chaotic city, God Willing. I will do everything I can to make this a safe and enriching experience; I will take precautions every day like wear sunscreen and use bugspray; I will hold my son tightly in Tuk Tuks and try to travel when traffic is light. I will buy helmets and hold his hand tightly while crossing the street, I will monitor pools and food and drinking water, and use antibacterial wipes after every ride. I will try to make sure he drinks enough and sleeps enough and doesn’t walk near the hot mufflers of parked motos, or go near wandering dogs or creepy-looking people. I will read my son books and speak to him in French, try to find him vegetables he will eat, and not use the TV as a babysitter. I will listen to his concerns and snuggle whenever he needs it, and continue to give positive reinforcement for the wonderful things he does and says, for sharing and being kind and smart and polite. I will be patient and not yell, even if I’m tired or sad or sometimes scared. I will pray for protection and guidance and be thankful for everything we have – and we have so much. I will do all of this and more. And everything will be ok. God Willing.