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Reconfiguring my Parenting Voice

Concerned relatives mention gravely that your daughter should wear exactly what you tell her to, without negotiation.

A radio commercial, with a resonant, emotive voiceover urges you to "not sweat the small stuff." The voice asks, "Does it really matter what sweater she wears? Let her make the choice as much as possible."

A stranger in a shopping mall food court says you have the patience of a saint with your children, but the statement is spoken as a backhanded compliment.

Conversely, the parenting text you pored over in the early days of your children's lives stresses the words "autonomy" plus "personal responsibility" and "freedom" in raising your children.

In the conflicted world of 21 century parenting, a so-called "correct" way of being is harder and harder to locate. If we exert excessive authority, we are deemed overly strict. On the other hand, allowing children more freedom raises fears of inadequate security, too-slack controls and impending social deviance. The multiple messages targeting parents contradict. Ultimately, finding an authentic, true-to-yourself parenting style and voice to express it becomes more and more of a daunting quest.

We are each born with a voice, it's true, but as we merge into new roles, so too does our voice need to merge into new forms. With parenting, the voice we need is diversified and fluctuates in a troublesome no-woman's land between authority and permissiveness.

I have had, admittedly, a vocal identity crisis in the past few years as I've merged into my most recent manifestation of "parent." Yet, finally, six years in, I seem to be reconfiguring my voice to do this job; achieving a voice that is clear, stresses boundaries and doesn't confuse with niceties. I owe the credit for this most recently to two non-human entities: a four-legged canine character named Zeus and a finned beauty named Lola.

A brief history of my voice

Let me first of all define what I mean by reconfiguring my voice. For the purpose of this article, it will mean changing to achieve a form of communication that effectively asserts my needs. When I say voice, I mean the audible sound coming from my throat, but I also mean the words and tone that make up the message carried in my spoken and written communications.

Reconfiguring a voice to meet new challenges sounds simple enough. Yet, if your path has followed a similar route to mine, you will understand this to be no mild accomplishment.

Being born female sometimes leaves many disadvantaged in the voice department. A soft, gentle voice is undervalued in most professional areas. When we venture into them, we retrain ourselves to sound deeper, more authoritative, and ultimately more masculine. One of my strongest coping mechanisms in the ongoing communication challenges in professional circles was an expansive vocabulary. I learned quickly that saying largish words others didn't understand would compensate for my soft female voice, and well, for my female presence. As a reporter and later a teacher/counselor, this was an effective means for gaining credibility and often, control.

Later, as a student of adult education, I studied the many questions about teacher authority in a class. Does relinquishing the traditional authority of a teacher mean students gain control of their own learning? Can a teacher accomplish the goals set by an institution without maintaining a high degree of authority? Does a teacher's authority make students secure and help them feel guided? Since voice communicates either authority or freedom, these were issues directly related to my speaking and writing style. I chose a more casual, less authoritative style of voice and found my students enjoyed the opportunity to experience freedom over their learning. But this particular style has not proven to be helpful with young children.

While pregnant, I read parenting texts that encouraged talking (out loud) to the child inside my womb. This was not a kind of freedom I could permit myself. It seemed too strange and contrived and I couldn't do it. My voice and this new trans-uterine form of dialog didn't mesh. When the baby eventually bounced into my world, the parenting texts were still urging the talk. Now it was a little easier and eventually I got it, but I struggled.

An excessive vocabulary didn't help matters. One day in a fit of parenting outrage at my older child's interference with my younger child's play, I said, "Stop dominating her play!" I suppose the tone was clear but that was all. Otherwise, my son looked at me as if I'd just spoken to him in Swahili and went on his way.

I wrestled with appropriate parenting voices, sometimes finding the simple word 'no' the most difficult both to say, and to say effectively. I'm relieved to know this is a problem that cuts a wide swath through my gender group. Nevertheless, 'no' is an essential word in every aspect of life and especially in parenting. For every missed opportunity to "just say no", a wall of nasty karma waits to fall on my head somewhere in the near future. I learned and added "no" to my repertoire, but was never completely happy about uttering it sans mitigating explanation. Not completely happy that is, until the arrival of Zeus.

Zeus

A pound puppy, Zeus became a newly adopted family member in my home at the end of last year. At first, Zeus needed the gentle nurturing of a newborn child. Missing his brothers and sisters at the SPCA, Zeus spent the first night crying and whimpering. Fortunately, he soon conquered that first loneliness hurdle and adjusted to his new pack, which includes my six-year-old and four-year-old. The downside is that, like all dogs, he has some habits that conflict with our urban human lifestyle, primarily biting, barking and jumping. Training him out of these unwelcome behaviours requires a strong, unequivocal voice. Diplomacy is ridiculous in this situation, but old patterns are hard to abandon. Recommendations from multiple sources, however, stress the importance of being clear and unwavering with commands.

I am happy to report, thankfully, that my voice has managed the change. I can now, without hesitation, speak forcefully to Zeus in a way he will hear and interpret to my advantage. I know this because I see his changed behaviour. When he whimpers in the middle of the night, I say, "Zeus, sleep!" Amazingly, he does. That's a good thing for all of us in the household. I can't help wondering if this type of response to my own children's difficulty with sleep would have been as effective.

A side effect of saying 'no' so forcefully and unequivocally to Zeus has been improved no-saying to my children. Young kids have ample extra-ordinary requests. I have been known to try to accommodate them. However, more and more I'm finding a simple, forceful 'no' puts those requests to rest and allows the kids to move on to the next idea. At least that's how my children have reacted to the vastly increased number of 'no's they hear in a day. The experiment has been short-term so far, but preliminary results indicate they are 1) more self-sufficient as individuals, and 2) more reliant on each other. I like both of these. These spin-offs to my reconfigured voice have been welcome surprises.

Lola

While the training of Zeus has strengthened the assertive tones in my voice, the puppy factor has also meant moments of pure tenderness as well. Having a different kind of mammal around has given me an enhanced appreciation of the many virtuous characteristics dogs present including curiosity, enthusiasm and attachment.

Fish demonstrate virtuous characteristics as well, as I learned from six months of sharing an office with a beautiful burgundy Siamese fighting fish named Lola. As I got to know her/him (the gender was never confirmed), Lola served as an alter ego for the writer in me being cramped by an overflowing plateful of parenting responsibilities. Furthermore, the regular viewing of Lola on my desk prompted me to write a blog, something that would compare the life of a fish with my own fishbowl-like existence as a parent, particularly the confinement in a part-time career, a heavy workload at home that left me no time or energy for fun or even reflection. My framing of Lola as familiar and muse allowed me to express the angst I felt over being continually exhausted with the drudgery and tedium in the daily grind of housework and childcare.

At the same time, Lola floated around before my eyes in a soft and gentle dance that reminded me of the gracefulness we can achieve by merely living in the moment, reducing our needs and straining for the simplicity inherent in the life of a fish. I wrote Life of Lola regularly (www.lolainvancouver.blogspot.com) for six months. Like the other 54 percent of bloggers, I wrote for therapy and personal development. At the end, Lola had helped me achieve a new balance. Not perfect, but healthier. Writing about Lola and the various reflections I observed as I participated in my life satisfied a need for self-expression and gave me a new blogging voice for my parent role. I could not have adequately discussed these observations with other moms on play dates because of North American cultural taboos against negativity. However, my criticisms could be released as I wrote about Lola.

The Ever-Changing Voice

I don't suggest that I have achieved voice nirvana. My search up to now not over, as there will be new circumstances that will require additional changes. My voice will have to re-manifest to meet new challenges. For the moment, with a little help from two animal friends, I have reconfigured my voice, achieving wider-ranging communication ability. On the authoritative end, I can now effectively halt dangerous and destructive behaviours with a strong "stop" to kids and dog alike. At the same time, I can communicate the more whimsical and even sad and negative reflections of mothering that don't always fit in polite social conversations.

I have this voice, and it is mine, despite the mixed messages I hear regularly from relatives, the media and strangers. My quest to learn to parent growing children continues as they grow and change. Thanks to Zeus and Lola, I've had a little help defining my voice in a parenting environment that offers contradictory and confusing messages about the correct way to be.