Hi, Christina -- just want to thank you for your kind comment at Dawn Eden's blog. It reminded me once again that common ground can be found even between people whose views seem opposite in every way.
And it was particularly well-timed, because it was among the last comments I will ever read on Dawn's site, from which I am abstaining as of today.
On the other PP-related thread further down, someone said, "L - your kid will wind up dead like Heath Ledger."
And instead of deleting it -- or at the very least, telling the troll to play nice -- Dawn said (to me), "A reasonable person could conclude that a child parented the way you claim to parent yours would indeed wind up like Heath Ledger."
After nearly two years of commenting over there, I will miss Dawn's blog. But she revealed a vindictive streak that I've never seen in her before today.
Hugs, L. Though I really don't think it was meant as vindictive. It sounded really ugly, I'll agree. But I think it was meant as a shock-style warning that they think some of your parenting choices are encouraging highly risky behavior.
I could be wrong. That's just how I'm reading it. As very poorly worded but not intended as ugly as it sounds.
But I think it was meant as a shock-style warning that they think some of your parenting choices are encouraging highly risky behavior.
I agree with that interpretation. I do think, however, that it perfectly illustrates why behaving a certain way just because you're absolutely sure that you're right is not a good idea. Even if you are right, it makes you at best a cruel person; and there is always the chance that you're not right, in which case you're cruel AND wrong to boot. I was very disappointed with that thread and have felt like I don't want to visit her blog anymore since I read it, which makes me sad.
L., I rarely actually speak with you, but I have lurked on Dawn's site for a while. Your approach to parenting sounds virtually identical to that of my parents, and I am immensely grateful that they raised me as they did. They were of the mind that even ugly or undesirable things provided an opening into a conversation about why I would not want those things in my life -- but when I began making decisions myself, they let me make them. They made me and my sisters aware of their opinions of our decisions -- my younger sister had awful taste in clothing, for example -- but once the decision was ours, it was ours. I was surprised, at age 18, to find that as much as I thought I wanted to be nothing like my mother, I turned to her for advice on some of my most hidden fears and conflicts, things I could hardly bear to admit to myself. I firmly believe I was able to trust her so much specifically because I had been raised with the mutual understanding that my life and its accompanying choices would one day be all mine, and that she would love me no matter what, even if my decisions hurt her. When I was struggling the most, it was the knowledge that she wanted me to be healthy and happy that inspired me to find ways to be healthy and happy. I am one of the few people I know who has never tried any illegal drugs or smoked a cigarette; I didn't have sex until I was 22 -- the last of all the girls I knew; by most standards, I grew into a decent and responsible, if imperfect, person.
Some of the issues we butted heads on well past the point at which I felt capable of handling things on my own are the areas I still struggle with today. She would often get fed up with my messy room and insist that I clean it before I could watch TV with the rest of the family or something, even when I was 18 or home visiting from college. She had a point -- it was her house, and my room was very messy -- but that is one of the few trappings of adolescence I have yet to outgrow, and I can't help feeling like there is a part of me that's still 18 and refusing the clean my room on principle, even though I've long since moved out. It became a control issue -- my rights versus her wishes -- and I seem to be crippled by an inability to stay organized even now that I'm 25. I wonder who I would be with regard to organization/neatness if I didn't feel that cleaning my desk off was giving in to what I once perceived as her overbearingness and unwillingness to see things my way. At the same time, I'm glad that other areas of my development were left more up to me, and never became an issue of control or rebellion.
I think your children are very lucky to have you as a mother, and I hope that, should I ever be a parent, I can do as good a job of raising children capable of making informed decisions as my mom did and as you seem to be doing.
Christina, I do think it would be nice if there were CPC's near abortion clinics, I guess. Kind of like how once a WalMart springs up, a Home Depot often follows close behind -- in case you can't get what you're looking for at WalMart. I think that if a woman considering abortion feels harassed by the presence of a CPC in the vicinity, she probably isn't fully comfortable with her decision (provided the CPC staff or support members aren't like verbally harassing people or anything, obviously).
At first, I wondered if indeed Dawn meant her words as a shock-style warning that they think some of my parenting choices are encouraging risky behavior.
But then I read her follow-up messages, and her responses to some of the commenters, and I have to say, it really came across more as a personal attack.
I asked her to apologize only for the implications of the "your kid will wind up dead" commenter she supported.
I am guessing that she will choose not to respond to me at all. But I hope she surprises me.
I will attribute her lapse of courtesy to the stress in her life (she's having thyroid surgery next month, and she lost her job).
And I have resolved to try to wean myself away from arguments in the blog world, and instead direct my time and energy toward making the real world a better place.
Hi, Christina -- just want to thank you for your kind comment at Dawn Eden's blog. It reminded me once again that common ground can be found even between people whose views seem opposite in every way.
ReplyDeleteAnd it was particularly well-timed, because it was among the last comments I will ever read on Dawn's site, from which I am abstaining as of today.
On the other PP-related thread further down, someone said, "L - your kid will wind up dead like Heath Ledger."
And instead of deleting it -- or at the very least, telling the troll to play nice -- Dawn said (to me), "A reasonable person could conclude that a child parented the way you claim to parent yours would indeed wind up like Heath Ledger."
After nearly two years of commenting over there, I will miss Dawn's blog. But she revealed a vindictive streak that I've never seen in her before today.
Hugs, L. Though I really don't think it was meant as vindictive. It sounded really ugly, I'll agree. But I think it was meant as a shock-style warning that they think some of your parenting choices are encouraging highly risky behavior.
ReplyDeleteI could be wrong. That's just how I'm reading it. As very poorly worded but not intended as ugly as it sounds.
But I think it was meant as a shock-style warning that they think some of your parenting choices are encouraging highly risky behavior.
ReplyDeleteI agree with that interpretation. I do think, however, that it perfectly illustrates why behaving a certain way just because you're absolutely sure that you're right is not a good idea. Even if you are right, it makes you at best a cruel person; and there is always the chance that you're not right, in which case you're cruel AND wrong to boot. I was very disappointed with that thread and have felt like I don't want to visit her blog anymore since I read it, which makes me sad.
L., I rarely actually speak with you, but I have lurked on Dawn's site for a while. Your approach to parenting sounds virtually identical to that of my parents, and I am immensely grateful that they raised me as they did. They were of the mind that even ugly or undesirable things provided an opening into a conversation about why I would not want those things in my life -- but when I began making decisions myself, they let me make them. They made me and my sisters aware of their opinions of our decisions -- my younger sister had awful taste in clothing, for example -- but once the decision was ours, it was ours. I was surprised, at age 18, to find that as much as I thought I wanted to be nothing like my mother, I turned to her for advice on some of my most hidden fears and conflicts, things I could hardly bear to admit to myself. I firmly believe I was able to trust her so much specifically because I had been raised with the mutual understanding that my life and its accompanying choices would one day be all mine, and that she would love me no matter what, even if my decisions hurt her. When I was struggling the most, it was the knowledge that she wanted me to be healthy and happy that inspired me to find ways to be healthy and happy. I am one of the few people I know who has never tried any illegal drugs or smoked a cigarette; I didn't have sex until I was 22 -- the last of all the girls I knew; by most standards, I grew into a decent and responsible, if imperfect, person.
Some of the issues we butted heads on well past the point at which I felt capable of handling things on my own are the areas I still struggle with today. She would often get fed up with my messy room and insist that I clean it before I could watch TV with the rest of the family or something, even when I was 18 or home visiting from college. She had a point -- it was her house, and my room was very messy -- but that is one of the few trappings of adolescence I have yet to outgrow, and I can't help feeling like there is a part of me that's still 18 and refusing the clean my room on principle, even though I've long since moved out. It became a control issue -- my rights versus her wishes -- and I seem to be crippled by an inability to stay organized even now that I'm 25. I wonder who I would be with regard to organization/neatness if I didn't feel that cleaning my desk off was giving in to what I once perceived as her overbearingness and unwillingness to see things my way. At the same time, I'm glad that other areas of my development were left more up to me, and never became an issue of control or rebellion.
I think your children are very lucky to have you as a mother, and I hope that, should I ever be a parent, I can do as good a job of raising children capable of making informed decisions as my mom did and as you seem to be doing.
Christina, I do think it would be nice if there were CPC's near abortion clinics, I guess. Kind of like how once a WalMart springs up, a Home Depot often follows close behind -- in case you can't get what you're looking for at WalMart. I think that if a woman considering abortion feels harassed by the presence of a CPC in the vicinity, she probably isn't fully comfortable with her decision (provided the CPC staff or support members aren't like verbally harassing people or anything, obviously).
ReplyDeleteYay! Another area of common ground!
ReplyDeleteThanks, Alexandra and Christina.
ReplyDeleteAt first, I wondered if indeed Dawn meant her words as a shock-style warning that they think some of my parenting choices are encouraging risky behavior.
But then I read her follow-up messages, and her responses to some of the commenters, and I have to say, it really came across more as a personal attack.
I asked her to apologize only for the implications of the "your kid will wind up dead" commenter she supported.
I am guessing that she will choose not to respond to me at all. But I hope she surprises me.
Well, I can get pretty snippy and nasty myself, but I try to appologize when I get called on the carpet for it.
ReplyDeleteUpdate: Dawn apologized.
ReplyDeleteI will attribute her lapse of courtesy to the stress in her life (she's having thyroid surgery next month, and she lost her job).
And I have resolved to try to wean myself away from arguments in the blog world, and instead direct my time and energy toward making the real world a better place.
I mean, she's having thyroid surgery next WEEK.
ReplyDelete