Doper parents, can you tell me why it feels good to be a parent?

In My Humble Opinion
21

For me, my kids give me happiness that I never got from anything else in the same way, but they also make me realise that I am NOT a good mother and some days they might be better off with someone else.

But then the idea of them going to anyone else is like a knife in the guts…

And recently, approaching 40, I have begun to have biologically incited thoughts of what would happen if one of them died. I soon will be too old to have more kids. I have always known that having had one kid, if he died I would be desperate to have another, not to replace him per se, but because the idea of a life without my children in it is unbearable.

I am rapidly approaching the age when the ones I have will become irreplacable physically as well as for their own selves, and that frightens me. This I think is a biological imperative.

About why I like having kids…

I don’t like a lot about them. I don’t like the whining, the constantly grabbing hands and the “mum mum mum” that comes from one or the other ALL DAY.

But I do LOVE having conversations with them, reading to them, watching them learn something new, and seeing them make their own friends and lives.

As other posters have said, they are an awfully good excuse for a lot of things - going to places you couldn’t justify by yourself, (that goes for buying stuff too!!) simply getting you out of the house when its too cold or hot for your tastes but you know it would be good for you really, buying candy which you have to taste to see if its OK for them…

There a lot of things to like about having kids.

Oh, here’s another one, your range of friends expands suddenly. I have found that I had great friend making opportunities at college, and the friends I made there stuck, and are my friends now even 20 years later. But in the world of work your potential friend pool shrinks, and I have not kept many friends from my working days. Once you have kids (for a woman at least, dunno for a man) then you meet people at clinics, child centres, family days at local parks, kindy and school events, and there is another huge pool of potential friends. And they have kids similar in age to yours so you can claim you are getting together for the sake of the children (which you are) but you can also have a chance to unwind and “play”.

22

Okay, I’ll take a shot at it.

Each of my kids has a different slice of my personality (and my wife’s, for that matter) so it’s fascinating to see how they react to things the same way – or not the same way – I would in the same situation.

Each of them has a talent in something. I like to think I had a hand in helping them recognize that talent, and in helping to bring it along.

And at this stage in their lives (all of them are in college) I like seeing where their minds have gone. Having a discussion with them about movies, or music, or politics, or sports and listening to their fully thought-out, well considered opinions.

In other words, I can look at them and say “I built that.”

23

Whenever adults get together and the parents talk about their kids, it’s usually the missteps, embarrassing moments, trials, and overall bad points that are easier to talk about. More entertaining? More urgent after something challenging just happened? More cathartic?

Somehow hanging out with the guys describing how a fingerpainting on the fridge makes you feel just doesn’t seem cool. It’s a private lift, I guess. On behalf of parents I apologize for presenting a lopsided view.

Just today I was downstairs with Nature Boy (13). We were comparing fine points of structure and complexity between Rush and Dream Theatre. We stumbled into this activity. Nature Boy’s natural curiosity led us, as well as my enthusiasm to share my interests with him. We spent 2 hours with the lights off listening and talking about music. When I tucked him in tonight, he said “I love you” as he usually does, but there was a smidge more depth to it this time.

I was about to type a couple other “oooh, isn’t that special anecdotes.” No doubt your eyes glazed over with the last one. But damn it if these things don’t inflate my cockles with mini firework-stars of joy.

What’s in it for me as a parent?
[ul]
[li]The awesome responsibility of writing carefully on the tabla rasa.[/li][li]The vicarious fresh view of the world through young eyes.[/li][li]The deep, intimate interpersonal relationship with another human being each knowing more about the other than the tenfold the entire world’s knowledge of us combined.[/li][li]The purty-near unconditional love despite that knowledge.[/li][li]The effort, the sacrifices, the misteps and the backpedalling, the guidance that by golly actually worked - seeing all of this coalesce into the experience of witnessing the addition of a couple more decent human beings to the world.[/li][/ul]

… ahhhh what’s not to love?

24

BabyVerm is nine months old now, so I’m coming at this from the perspective of a rather new parent.

It is extremely difficult to describe what it’s like to be a parent to someone who is not a parent. Were I to go back in time and try and tell myself what was in store, I’d struggle in both the explanation and the understanding. Much of it must be physiological, because I wasn’t very interested in infants before I got pregnant; I would see babies and think they were cute, but I didn’t have any desire to hold them. Or I’d read about horrible things happening to babies and get a squick reflex, but nothing like the visceral, whole-body “No no no no no!” I get now.

Much of what’s been said holds true for me as well, but what fascinates me the most about my son is watching him develop, mentally and physically. He’s gone from a noisy little twitchy lump to a miniature human being in hardly any time at all. Even the perfectly ordinary everyday tasks most adults take for granted are milestones (being able to put food in your own mouth, pull off your socks, pick up a toy, or stand up from a sitting position), and he’s thrilled whenever he accomplishes them. And I’m thrilled too, vicariously.

25

Well, here’s one. We had the first kid (son) because my wife wanted one; the second (daughter) was accidental – after the difficulty having the first one, we didn’t think that one night without birth control would be so…fruitful. I am, however, ungodly fertile, and there we are.

I tried. I helped, I worked hard, I did dad stuff. But I never bonded with our son, never really found him that appealing. I objectively knew that he was attractive & photogenic, very good-natured and easy to deal with, and really a blessing for most parents, and I certainly thrived on the compliments. But I only occasionally thought that anything he did was cute, only occasionally felt “natural” dealing with him. I eventually began to withdraw from my family.

As my wife’s second pregnancy progressed, I grew increasingly stressed; pressure at work didn’t help, and neither did my increasing disaffection with the whole suburban homeowner schtick. I had a little nervous breakdown; a few months later, days before my daughter’s birth, I started an affair. I went into therapy, and eventually it all came unglued. I moved out for the children’s safety, and now I’m getting divorced. I see my kids three times a week, under my wife’s supervision, and I manage to hold out for about 4 hours before I have to leave, no longer able to pretend I’m a loving father.

26

Are you asking why I liked the idea of becoming a parent, or why I like being one now? Nevermind. I’ll answer both.

For me it was as simple as wanting a family…wanting to be part of a family. Of course, I already had my own family, my parents and siblings, and we have always been close, but as I matured through my 20’s and became naturally less attached to them, I started to miss that closeness one feels being part of a nuclear family. However, the thrill of being young and single was ample compensation . When I got hooked up, part of that need was fulfilled. My husband and I were (and are) best friends, but neither of us felt that two added up to a complete family and we both agreed from the start that we wanted a house full of people who were, for better or worse, bonded to one another for life.

Even knowing this, I never gave much thought to babies or children. For me the process was like walking through a series of curtains I didn’t even know were there. During my first pregnancy, I remember being awestruck by the thought that so many people had done this without bursting from excitment, nervousness and joy. How could I have lived for 36 years and not known about this?! Then the babies themselves are designed to make you crazy about them. The way an infant can only focus on objects 18 inches from his face, which is roughly the distance from my nipples to my eyes.

Then there’s the terrifying, yet satisfying, feeling of responsibility that comes with parenthood. It hit me with deafening clarity when my first son was 3 months old and our house was full of family – mothers, grandmothers, aunts – all these wise women who, for me held the authority in matters of mothering. Yet while being passed from woman to woman, Jonah suddenly reached for me with a scared, hopeful look. Me! Was he crazy? I don’t know squat about being a good mother in comparison to these ladies, and you want ME? And another curtain pulled back as I realized that I was his world.

Now I get to play guide for them as they discover the world beyond me, and that’s just tons of fun.

Oh, and we have someone to bring us the remote.

27

I must preface this by saying I did not read the rest of the thread. Sorry.

I think there are a variety of reasons why it feels good to be a parent.

On a visceral/Darwinian level, it feels good because you’ve accomplished your biological purpose on earth – you’ve reproduced and thereby perpetuated your genetic heritage another generation. One could argue that that is what we are here for.

On a more aesthetic/romantic level, it’s wonderful because the child you and your partner create represent your love and the pinnacle of human creation. The kid is half you and half your partner. It’s Hegelian! The two of you come together and create something new and beautiful. What else can you create that is as complex and dangerous as a new life?

Good lord, kids can be a huge pain in the ass. But it’s entirely worth it.

They do things that make you think they’re little versions of you. But then they surprise you by going far beyond anything you thought of becoming. It’s fun to watch them enjoy all the fun things you loved as a kid. It’s excrutiating to watch them make your mistakes again.

Children are little people – little individuals. Do you generally love people? If so, you’ll probably love kids. They’re entirely more honest, vulnerable, guileless and sincere than us adults. If you can accept the fact that they represent our true human nature more honestly than the facades we adults throw up then you’ll love children too.

Jesus loved 'em!

28

Why I Love My Son

29

Oh yeah, and they’re funny. little case explaining why he can’t eat blue vein cheese: “It stinks and poo stinks and I can’t eat poo so I can’t eat it.”

30

They don’t stop being funny either. Ivyboy and Ivygirl are of an age where we can leave them alone at home, and one day, Ivylad and I were leaving to run errands. My son tells us goodbye, and my daughter says (as she shuts Ivylad’s car door) “Be good. We’re not going to bail you out of jail!”

:confused: :dubious: :smiley:

I don’t know where they get it from. It’s the spontaneity that slays me.

Nametag, that’s a very sad story. I hope you’re getting some counseling to work through your issues.

31

Oh.

Come.On.Now.

Do I have to be the only one to fess up?

Why do I like having children?
Why to turn them into my winged monkey’d slaves and do my bidding.
The tax deduction thing is nice too.
and the rest of the nicey nicey warmfeelgood thingies peoples said above.

32

Trying to explain why being a parent feels good to someone who isn’t a parent is kinda like trying to describe the color blue to someone who was born blind. Before anyone takes offense at this statement, please know that this isn’t meant as an insult. What I do mean is this: the concept of color is hard to explain to someone who’s never seen it and the feelings of being a parent are hard to explain to someone who’s never experienced it. Nothing anyone said to me before I had kids (and I really wanted them) could have prepared me for the overwhelming love and protectiveness I would feel. Or how I would be willing to die or kill for them. No one could’ve ever described how much fun it is the first time you tell a real joke to your kid–and they get it! And how sweet and funny they can be. I’m the oldest of five children–smelled that baby smell most of my growing up years. So how come I was overwhelmed by the sweet smell of my own child? Because being a parent is just different–no matter how much experience you have with kids, no matter how much you like them and want kids someday–when you become a parent, it’s all fresh and new, and stunning in its magnitude.

33

I try to explain to my single friends why it seems almost impossible to get through a conversation with a parent without a child anecdote popping up.

Basically, having a child is sort of like having a drunk friend with you* all the time*. They have horrible motor control, will often excrete on themselves, and get you into crazy situations. And, of course, every once in a while, they’ll dish out some truly profound stuff that can make you laugh and cry at the same time.

34

This is it. Exactly. And it doesn’t take much to trigger the reaction.

My son used to be all excited because when I got home, we would go out and play in the snow. Or walk to the playground.

My wife and daughter went to Europe without me and The Lad to visit some friends of ours, and I re-learned that my son is good company. We went out to dinner, and went to movies, and generally hung out together. Good times.

But my wife took the video camera along to Europe, and interviewed my daughter on the way over, in Europe, and on the way home. When my wife asked my daughter what she enjoyed about the trip, she had a long list of stuff she liked - a castle, seeing a German film being made, staying in a hotel near Checkpoint Charlie, meeting her friend’s friends and practicing her German - lots of stuff.

When my wife asked her what she missed most about home, she had only one answer - immediate, and quite matter-of-fact.

“Daddy.”

Maybe you can’t really understand it until it happens to you, but when it does, you will know.

Regards,
[del]Shodan[/del]

Daddy

35

Thanks for sharing so candidly your experience with your children. I guess this is the type of situation I could see unfolding for myself.

I may end up with my current girlfriend, who does not want children, which is refreshing for me. My previous girlfriend aspired to be a baby-factory. So this thread is very interesting to me, because I’m trying to figure out whether or not I want children . . . I always seem to default back to not wanting them, but sometimes I think I’d make a great dad.

36

It’s better to wait and be sure then have kids and find out that you shouldn’t have.

37

Crap

[del]then[/del] thAn

38

This is an easy one:

[ul]
[li]having too much free time is stressful[/li][li]I love the smell of feces in the morning…[/li][li]there are really no good movies in the theaters these days[/li][li]the decreased income is good for ones character[/li][li]having a second chance at grade-school homework is a true gift[/li][li]yelling is good therapy[/li][li]Nick and Nick Jr. can occasionally make one feel warm inside[/li][li]they will move out in a decade-and-a-half[/li][/ul]

; )

39

Poetry, phung, pure poetry!

40

Disclaimer: Sophia is a healthy, wanted, planned child. I believe that each of those elements play a large part in determining how you will handle parenthood and your attitude towards it. Obviously, my experiences color what I say – Your Mileage May Vary.

For starters, I agree with Chanteuse – being a parent is one of those things, like Bangladeshian-level poverty, that you really have to experience before you can claim “knowledge” of.

We love Sophie. Adore her. We are blessed to have a person like her in our lives – not “blessed to have such a child” but blessed to have such a person. She is a wonderful child, a joy to be around, easily the greatest thing that has ever entered her mothers or mine lives, by far the best decision we have ever made.

Sophia, at four, is sweet. At karate, she cheers the other kids who succeed and consoles the kids who don’t (giving hug “I’m sorry you didn’t break the board, Carol. You’ll do better next time”). She is, as best as a four year-old can be, considerate – “May I have the last piece of chocolate, Daddy?” She is intelligent – her ability to form complex sentence structures is particularly striking, so is her liking of jokes and wordplay from such an early age. She is well-mannered – “please” and “thank you” comes unbidden, she likes to help (and I try to make it so that Sophie can help, regardless of the task), and she has little problem looking people in the eye and making conversation with them (so many kids won’t look an adult in the eye I wonder if it’s taught behavior). She loves – even now, months after his death, she’ll go out and talk to our dog who is buried in the backyard.

She’s a great person. It’s hard not to love her.

And we tell her this. Daily. Hourly. I will gladly bet next years income that Sophie has heard a variant of “I love you” or “You’re a great child” or “Sophie, you mean the world to your mother and I” at least 20 times a day in the ~1,500 days of her life. She is a very secure, pleasant, well-adapted, healthy child and it is in large part because of the life that we’ve given her that she is that way.

I don’t understand why other parents do nothing but complain about parenthood. To me, while I’ve had a relatively successful (at times) and interesting (most times) career, there has been nothing to match parenthood in terms of being personally rewarded.

(Btw, the link takes you to some pictures of her. Those are her last two Halloween costumes - she went as Athena in 2004 and as “Best Actress” in 2005 (hence the Oscar)).