Unique Parenting Styles

I wonder if my kids ever questioned my unique parenting style?

I suspect they didn’t know any different for the first several years of life. The question of parenting style never came up, except at a pre-school parent potluck and that was the adults talking amongst themselves. For most kids growing up in a two-parent household, life at home was all they knew up to that point – mom and dad. When separation and divorce occur, changing the makeup of the so-called nuclear family, then perceptions begin to shift as mom tries to fill in the gaps and kids grow up too soon.

It happened in my case too. I loved my kids and I thought it was a given that they would grow up knowing it. Then, rather abruptly the time allotted to me with them was reduced to a phone conversation once or twice a month and maybe two weeks visitation in the summer. A lot changes in a school year! So much for concerns about parenting styles.

I watched almost as an observer for several years after that – the kids’ experiences were primarily with their step-dad. He tried very hard to incorporate his kids and mine into a well-woven family unit. I often said he offered much more in his parenting style than I would have. I still wasn’t sure that parenting even had a style.

Even in my absence I still portrayed a self-image of protective overseer. Whether the children thought that – that’s another question.

Growing Up Together

My son came back to live with me at age 13. It wasn’t easy but we laughed a lot and somehow had a pretty good time of it. I was living in Waikiki, Hawaii at the time and given a couple months my son learned to surf pretty well. The twist came when he joined the band and decided to work hard at school. I thought maybe it was to balance things out and show all of us he had it in him. I never pushed him, only nudged a few times and he responded with more strength of character than I could have asked for.

When he went back to live with his mom and twin sister in his senior year, we both came away knowing the time we’d shared was a special gift from above. It was no longer about parenting styles; it was about love. Who is the parent and who is the child?

I guess I’ll chalk it up to the mysteries of differing parenting styles.