Are you doing enough for your kids to make
sure they grow up to be happy and healthy? Are you a good husband or wife? Do
you call your mom, brother, or best friend as often as you should? I have three
simple rules that should banish these thoughts forever.
Rule Number One (It’s a simple rule in
concept, but admittedly more difficult to put in practice): Do as much as you
can - while you can. Bear in mind that even then you won’t be completely
satisfied you've done enough.
I know I may be comparing apples and oranges
here but I want to make a point. One of the most memorable scenes in any movie
I have ever seen comes at the end of Schindler’s List. Oskar Schindler (played
by Liam Neeson), a man who saved more than eleven hundred Jews from the
concentration camps, realizes that although he had done a lot... he could have
done more. Through his tears he rips off his gold lapel pin and says,
"...two people..." if only he'd sold it to save two more people.
I know a few parents who are like that. It
doesn’t matter how much they did for their kids, they always feel that they
could have done more and they're probably right. There is always more. Perhaps
you could have gone without sleep and devoted every waking moment to them or
never left them with a sitter while you had some alone-time with your spouse.
It’s called regret (or guilt) over having a
life while at the same time having kids. Get over it. It’s a trap; everything
always looks easier in hindsight. Don’t get me wrong; there is a balance to be
struck. It might be more helpful to think about what would have happened if you
HADN'T taken just a little time for yourself and then lost your mind. Where
would you and the kids be then?
Rule Number Two: Don’t expect your kids or
your loved one to acknowledge how much you've sacrificed for them. At least not
right away. If you do something for someone you love do it because they are
someone you love and do it without the expectation that they will ever say
thank you. (You’ll live longer . . . trust me.)
There was a period of time when both of my
parents worked and my older sister was responsible for keeping an eye on us. My
brother and I are only a couple years apart and we were terrors. We weren’t
bad, just active and quite a handful. My older sister kept us safe, kept us
fed, and even took us to the library, which is where I assume I developed my
love for books. But we were young and didn’t even notice her sacrifices till
much later in life.
So it has taken 50 years . . . Thank you, sis! (better late than never... Right?)
Our kids had a list of gripes about the way
they were being raised, while they were being raised. They couldn’t understand
why they had to do homework and get jobs when they were old enough. My wife had
a strict rule: If you signed up for something be it soccer or glee club, you
had to finish. They couldn’t stay all night at a friend’s house unless we met
the parents (here’s a clue, when that’s a deal breaker, you know something was
up.) Like I said, they had gripes . . . until, that is, they went away to
college and found out how some of their peers were raised. Suddenly we didn’t
look so bad.
Alas someone much wiser than I told me that my
posts are too long and I should limit them to between 500 and 800. So you will
have to hear the rest of the story tomorrow.
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