4 minute read
A MILLENNIAL’S POV
Trying to stay optimistic about raising optimists
By Kimberly Elliot
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Kimberly Elliot is an associate with a Toronto-based marketing agency.
When I was pregnant with my first child, I opened a gift at my baby shower that, to put it kindly, threw me. It was a leash. A green leash attached to a fuzzy green frog-like backpack that wasn’t really a backpack, more of a harness apparatus disguised as a backpack to make the whole thing more palatable. But it was a leash nonetheless. From what I can remember, I accepted the present with little poise or grace – more like equal parts confusion and horror.
The leash saddened me. It was deflating to think that a friend thought it necessary, even essential, to give us a child leash as naturally as one might provide burp cloths, receiving blankets or baby clothes. The image of elation I had built parenthood to be did not come with a leash. It seemed fundamentally pessimistic that someone else’s would, that even in utero a baby wouldn’t be given the benefit of the doubt; ultimately, it was just a wild beast to be tamed.
I didn’t keep the leash. But I did keep an important insight the leash gave me: Optimism would be my guiding light in parenthood. I became determined to raise the little one to be optimistic, even to a fault. I already had proof that the “child-leash-gifters” of the world were trying to grind this baby’s spirit down – and I wasn’t going to have it.
LOOK AT THE BRIGHT SIDE
Of course, with my now six-year-old boy and his nearly three-year-old brother, I know that raising an optimist is awfully hard work. It’s not as easy as telling them to “Look at the bright side!” or “Be grateful!” It’s not as easy as not putting them on a leash. It takes a lot of layers of internal surveillance to make sure I’m a prime model of optimism myself. Some days it’s easier to be that model than others.
On my good days, I model confidence and trust. I encourage my boys to take reasonable risks, like climbing trees, crossing the road to get a ball, or
riding a bike alone to the end of the street and back.
I try to foster gratitude for the world around us, especially for each other, our good neighbours, the forest behind our house, and our cat. I quiet any negative self-talk with positive conversation about reasons to love ourselves or things we are good at, or with a healthy dose of sarcasm. I celebrate successes with fervour and do my best to brush off failures. On my good days I am not a leash. I am not tethered to them by anything but the heart. They are free to roam and explore. Free to fall, run, climb, jump, trip, and eat dirt. I give my love freely and easily to them and myself.
And on my bad days, of which this year there have been many, I scream into a pillow when no one is watching.
Will any of this work to raise two bright and cheery optimists? I have no idea. There is exhaustive research on how to properly raise an optimistic child, and if I’m desperate, I might read some. But I’m an optimist myself, so I believe things will magically work out – with a little hard work on my part.
A TESTING YEAR
2020 has been a year for testing optimism. I’ve wanted to leash my kids during solo trips to the grocery store. I’ve wanted to leash them when they get too close to friends in the park. I’ve wanted to leash my elder son to keep him in place during distanced learning. But the sharpness of the year’s frustrations will be dulled one day, and I can’t allow our optimism to wither with it. I can’t say for certain my kids will grow up to be optimists, and I won’t insist this is the best or only way to raise them.
Optimism – at least, my brand of it – may not be everyone’s cup of tea. But if I can impart just one bit of wisdom on the matter, just one iota of information to take with you, it would be that no one should ever, under any circumstances, gift a child leash at a baby shower.
