Your kids are watching you just as closely as
you’re watching them, cautions
Orla Breeze
.
Who's watching who?
advice
(rated PG)
T
hey’re watching us. All that time,
we thought we were watching
them. We were
sure
of it. Their
whereabouts, their behaviour,
their every move – nothing escaped our
vigilant gaze. Turns out we couldn’t have
got it more wrong!
They
are watching
us
!
Every mannerism, every misstep, every
emotion we try to conceal is marked
down, noted and expertly copied. And
there’s nothing we can do to stop them.
Nothing! We’re being spied on in our own
homes by those undercover agents more
commonly known as our children.
I confess this is not something I realised
at the beginning of my parenting
journey. As a matter of fact, I was well
into my second child before I had any
clue it was happening. It was just a slow,
steady realisation that the way my son
and daughter spoke to each other was
becoming eerily familiar. Up until that
point, I had convinced myself that any
surprising phrases that came out of
their sweet little mouths were probably
the work of Oscar the Grouch or that
annoying fox from Dora the Explorer.
You know, the one that makes you want
to take up fox-hunting? Yeah, him. But
they put paid to that delusion one day
when we were out for one of our regular
afternoon drives.
There I was, driving down a lovely
country lane enjoying the views, doing
a great job of pretending I actually liked
the nursery rhymes we were singing
along to again. And there they were,
merrily joining in from the back seat when
out of the blue, the car in front of me
came to a sudden stop and I had to slam
on the brakes. I had literally just finished
congratulating myself on stopping the
car sans swear words when a shout of,
“Jesus!” came from the four-year-old,
followed swiftly by, “Christ!” from the
other. And there it was – illusion shattered.
All those times I had been sure I was
keeping all my grown-up phrases inside
my head, I had very clearly been sharing
them with my whole family. It was time for
a rethink.
From where I stand now, the solution
seems obvious and ended up becoming
one of my main parenting methods. But it
wasn’t so clear back then, especially with
another baby still inside me wreaking
havoc with my hormones. However, as life
settled down, the answer to how I could
deal with three sets of eyes watching
me
like a hawk slowly appeared. If they were
watching me, then I had no choice but to
watch me, too. Otherwise I’d only have
myself to blame for all of the irritating
behaviours they were picking up simply
by copying me. I mean, I couldn’t get
angry with them for thinking everything I
did was
definitely
worth copying! All kids
assume their parents know what they’re
doing! I was simply going to have to up
my game. Whether I liked it or not.
So I did. And instead of the whole
experience being a huge pain in the ass
– which was what I had anticipated – it
turned out to be a huge turning point.
Watching myself resulted in my changing
the bits of me that weren’t making me
happy. And changing those bits resulted
in my happiness increasing. And as my
happiness increased, my stress levels
started moving from their usual place
at the top of the scale to the lower end.
Permanently.
And, of course, all of the above meant
my kids’ surveillance began returning
less chaotic results, which meant a
less chaotic household. Who’d have
thought that spying on yourself spying
on your kids spying on you could have
such unexpected results? Home-grown
espionage – it’s the new top-secret
parenting weapon!
