Raising A Child The Way He Should Grow

Code is 20 months now, that’s four months away from two years. He talks now. Not sentences, just words. Or, if we are really lucky, two-word sentences. He points a lot though; at the door when I enter the house without his dad. At the television when he wants to watch Barney, and we r giving him that insipid Ceebeebees. At the refrigerator when he wants bread. He says poopoo when he’s about to poo, but we don’t always get it immediately, so he goes in his diaper. Most importantly, he says mummy!!

 

 

Now that bomboy is practically a man, just a step away from getting married and moving out of the home, I am paying closer attention to parenting methods. Like I had mentioned before on this blog, I’m from an old-school home. You mess up, you get lashed on the bumbum with koboko and wire! Mummy cooks food, you better eat up and not one word about it not being what you want to eat. I personally don’t think it’s a wrong way to raise children. A generous dose of love and toughness has got to be good for a child’s soul. Oh yes, a cane does drive foolishness out of their heart. MM, on the other hand, is into soft-pedaling things. He would graciously spend an hour or more coaxing bomboy to sleep. Me, I dump him on the bed, hold him down, and have him cry himself to sleep. I no get that kain patience, joo. By the time we go through this in a week, he understands that when mummy says, ‘oya, to your bed’ mummy means business! It’s all this alternating going-to-sleep method, and MM being allergic to his pikin crying, that is confusing the poor boy. Anyway sha, I let MM win that fight. So long as he shouldn’t tell me it’s my turn to tuck Code in tonight, cos he knows what that means.

 

 

But, this post is not about to whether to tough-love or not. There’s an issue more –  hmmm –  serious than that.

 

 

I may have mentioned it before, (or if you follow me on Facebook, you’d already know) but I’m not heavy on religion. My parents were Catholics, but did not actively raise us as one. They didn’t go to Mass every Sunday, nor kept up their attendance of morning mass, station of the cross, and all her sisters. They, however, made us attend catechism  for Holy Communion as well as Confirmation. Then, they practically left us to our own devices. Of the six of us, only my elder sister still goes to church out of her own freewill. My baby sister probably goes cos mom has turned Pentecostal now, and won’t hear shit about ‘not feeling it.’

 

 

MM had a slightly different upbringing from me. His mom was Catholic, and drag them into the church for every single event. His dad was Anglican in name only. He didn’t believe in the practices of the church – any church – and didn’t see why he has to bother keeping up appearance (my kind of guy). Before I married MM, he was the morning mass-going sort of guy. He said the Rosary with the chaplet (abi na the name), and all. He however was not a ‘confirmed’ Catholic, so at least I was better pass am for that area. Hehehehe.

 

 

Anyway, when MM and I met, I had gone through my various phases of churchism. I had been ‘born-again’ again and again, and finally gave up the titles. I had been a member of CPM, SCM, and Winners Chapel. I had also attended other churches: Redeemed, Living Word Ministry, House of The Rock, Christ Embassy. Let’s just say that I was done with them all. I had found them no difference from the other, in their bullshits and their pretenses.  But, since I had to be married in the Catholic church  – MM wouldn’t step into another church for regular Sunday service, much less wed in one – I refreshed my memory in the Catholic way. Went to afternoon mass, tried to believe in Virgin Mary and the saints (failing, of course). Finally, I told my dearest new husband that he shouldn’t count on me accompanying him to church, or to actively raise our child in the faith either. I figured, sooner than later, the child will decode that mummy doesn’t believe in the shit she’s feeding him. How does that then help him?

 

 

However, Code is growing, and I have to admit that putting the fear of Jesus into him might make my life easier. “Jesus hates liars! He burns them in the pit of hell!” Those sort of charming words to get him to behave. Who cares if I believe in the existence of heaven or hell. It’s not like Code can tell for the next couple of years, right? Besides, if he goes to church every Sunday, then he wouldn’t be watching Cartoon Network, or when he’s older, movies with butt-naked women running around. He might be persuaded to postpone sex till he was old enough to take care of unwanted pregnancy, should it result to that. He might find cigarettes and alcohol yucky, if he’s soaked in the blood of Jesus. He’ll forever seek to do good because he looks forward to his heavenly reward. Bottom-line, his only chance to make any meaning in his life is if mummy and daddy go to church together!

 

 

MM still goes to church, but maybe not as often as he would were I urging him on. I suppose if I was the sort of wife that wakes up every morning, calling for morning prayer, then my family would be more religious and ‘Christ would be head of our home.’ All terrible things of this ungodly world would not see us when they’re passing by. But, I am not. While I believe in God, I do not believe observing ‘christian behaviours’ is the ticket to a stress-free life, as preached by Living Faith Church.

 

 

However, every mother wants to raise a child that will do her proud. I don’t know about other parents, but I never feel like I know 100% what I’m doing. I’ve beliefs, convictions, hopes, that if I do A, B, C, it’d give me my desired D, E & F. But, who ever knows what the future holds. I can’t live my child’s life, and make him do exactly what I want. And how do I know that he’d want what I want? Sure, he wants to be a good child, but he may have a different interpretation about how to achieve that.

 

 

One thing I know, I would never discourage my son should ‘he discover God.’ I’d also work really hard not to let my ‘unbelief’ influence his own search for his faith. On the other hand, I probably wouldn’t push him towards it (I hope that’s not terrible of me). If he’s like me, distrusting churches and everyone who screams ‘God,’ I wouldn’t be sad either. Cos, at the end of the day, all I really desire for my son is to be a man worthy of his words, a man who’d work hard to have success, a man who would be as good a husband to his wife as his dad is to me (or better).

 

 

If he’d be these things, my job is done! And, so help me God.

Filed under: Bambino, Code, motherhood, parenting