A Parenting Minefield

This be the verse by Philip Larkin

“They f*ck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fcked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another’s throats.

Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don’t have any kids yourself.”

Wait. What? Really!?

I studied literature at GCSE, A' Level and University. Of the many works that I very nearly almost read over the years, "This be the verse" by Philip Larkin is one of the only poems that has stuck in my mind. Firstly because it's short. I like short. Secondly because it enabled me to say “f**k” in class at the tender age of 16 - such rebellion! Thirdly because it scares the hell out of me. The idea that no matter how well intentioned we may be as parents, no matter how determined we are not to pass on our own flaws to our children, there is a bleak inevitability that we will do so all the same.

When I read this poem as a teen I naturally wondered what faults I may have inherited from my parents. Premature receding hairline? Check. Being half an inch shy of six foot? Check. A violent blush reflex that lit up my face like a beacon at the first hint of embarrassment? Probably. Acne that punctuated my forehead like a braille novel? Yeah, why not. What about my propensity to wear ill fitting clothes a decade after they'd passed silently out of fashion? This was definitely their fault. Older brother = hand me downs.

But what about the non-physical flaws? What about the chronic inability to deal with awkward situations? I would avoid them at all costs - sometimes flat out refusing to leave my room or car when I sensed the potential for some embarrassment. What about my dread at having to speak to people on a phone? What about my general gangly teenage awkwardness or my inability to feel completely at ease in the company of my peers? To be fair, looking back now, all of this was pretty standard teenage stuff. But what if some of those flaws, and indeed the flaws I still carry to this day, were not of my own making? And what if Larkin is right and I am about to pass them (and more besides) on to my son?

At this point I'd like to make it clear that this isn't about taking my parents to task. I love my parents dearly (hi mum!) and without necessarily wanting to sound big-headed about it, I think they did a pretty amazing job. Apart from the receding hairline - which I have been deeply resentful about since the age of 21. Somebody majorly screwed up there! But now, having become a parent myself, my mind returns to Philip Larkin’s poem and I wonder now how my words and actions are starting to shape our son and what faults of my own I may be unintentionally passing on to him. I don't want him to be like me. I want him to be better. Maybe that's the start of the problem.

In considering the impact of my own actions on my son's future life, we skirt quite close to the question of nature vs nurture and the relative influence of those elements in shaping character. I think this could be a blog in itself, but in brief, I think the answer is more nuanced than a binary selection between one or the other. Consider, if you will, life to be a mixing desk in a recording studio (bear with me on this). An endless array of slides, dials and gauges that go from 0 to 10 (or 11 for you Spinal Tap fans). When our baby boy was born, those slides, dials and gauges were not all set to 0. They were already pre-set in a unique pattern, influenced by the combined code provided to him by me and my wife. When we brought him in to this world, he was already playing his very own music. Ah ok, so nature is more important right? Not necessarily.

Imagine my wife and I, through our natural control of his environment, started tweaking some of those settings. Imagine, for example, he takes inspiration from our own musical tastes. He instinctively starts to tone down his own preference for french horns (for example) and starts to fade in some synth keyboard. Then he starts toning down the french horns a little more so we can inject some electric guitar (with just a hint of overdrive). Then he brings in the ominous booming sound of distant thunder. Then he eases up the gravelly vox with just a little reverb - 'These mist covered mountains ...'. There it is! 'Brothers in Arms'! Again! Majestic!

But then what if, some years down the line, he gets to the point where he maybe realises that this music is not his own. What if he feels that something is missing but he doesn't know what it is - and then spends the rest of his life pouring over his mixing desk trying to rediscover the sound of french horns that disappeared long before he even had a chance to know what they were. I unintentionally conditioned him through nurture toward my own tastes. I unwittingly introduced an element in to his character that could ultimately manifest itself as a flaw. I unintentionally lost something of him that may have flourished otherwise.

Parenting is a minefield. As my son approaches his second birthday, I am acutely aware that he is changing incredibly quickly - his vocabulary is exploding, his emotions are practically beating out his little chest and he's looking everywhere for inspiration. As a parent, you can only ever do your best and God knows you will never always get it right. But maybe, if there is anything to take away from this, it's that I should try my best to help him become the person that he wants to be rather than the person I want him to be. I'm pretty sure that's what my parents did for me and it seemed to work out ok.

So Philip, thanks for the thoughts. One from me in return is that we are all, each in our turn, nothing but the sum total of our strengths and weaknesses. Our foibles, follies and flaws, whether they are inherited from our parents or there by our own making, are what make us uniquely us. This is no good reason to slip off a coastal shelf in to man made misery or, indeed, to stop having kids. This is the very essence of our humanity. It should be embraced and celebrated.

These opinions are my own. Or are they?