Here’s to Starting the Conversation

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This summer, my husband and I took the kids to see Finding Dory. As soon as we sat down, we heard a loud yowling from the other side of the theater. I looked over and saw a group of people with special needs, one of whom had made the sound.  I quickly whispered to my kids, “Those people have special needs. They might make noise during the movie, but they can’t help it.” My three 7-year-olds nodded solemnly and said not a word. 

As we drove home, I applauded myself on how respectful my kids were. They didn’t stare or make fun. I thought I had done my job as a parent. 

But I’m not so sure. 

Because, you see, I didn’t invite them to ask questions. I didn’t open a dialogue. I assumed their silence meant respect and understanding, but it could just as easily have meant confusion. By not intentionally inviting their questions, I had not done my job as a parent.  

startingtheconversationLet’s backtrack to the late 1990s.  

I’m 16 years old with my first serious boyfriend. Out of the blue one day, my mom asks, “What questions do you have about birth control?”  I act all offended and huffy, rolling my eyes at her intrusion into my sacred teenage privacy. 

But a couple years later, when I really do need birth control, who do I go to? My mom. I applaud her for bringing up a very difficult conversation. And even though my initial response was less-than-appreciative, I heard her message clearly: “I’m here. I care about you and your health and I want you to come to me when you have questions about sex.” What an amazing message for any parent to deliver to their child. (In case you’re wondering, my mom is the best mom in the world, no arguments allowed.) 

So where does that leave me? First of all,  thank God I don’t have to have those kinds of conversations with my kids yet, but I’ve realized it’s not enough to simply state facts or, even worse, passively wait for them to come to me with questions. Because, the truth is, they may never do that. I would have never brought up birth control with my mom on my own. But because she opened the dialogue, I knew I could talk to her when I was ready. With this strong example in mind, I feel a responsibility to actively engage my kids in tough conversations. 

So let’s look at last week. 

We are at Kroger, loading groceries into the van. I notice my kids watching an employee with Down Syndrome, who is returning carts. He talks to a customer while he works, and I can tell my kids notice his “differentness.” They don’t say anything. I could just leave it at that, but as we drive home, I say, “That man in the parking lot has Down Syndrome. That’s why he looks a little different and his voice sounds a little different.”

Immediately, Orlando asks, “What’s Down Syndrome?”

“It’s something you’re born with. It’s a type of special needs. People with Down Syndrome sometimes act like they are younger than they look. But they can be nice and be your friend and have a job, just like anybody else.” 

(Disclaimer: I don’t know if that’s the best way to explain Down Syndrome to kids, but I was doing what I do best as a mom, shooting from the hip.) 

We discuss special needs the rest of the way home. My daughter names kids at school with Down Syndrome, and Orlando talks about autism. I am amazed at how much they know, even though we haven’t discussed the topic before. And I know this only happened because I purposefully brought it up and invited their questions. 

So here’s a list of other conversations I want to start someday. (Disclaimer #2: I have no idea if these age ranges are appropriate. Again, shooting from the hip…)

  • Around age 10 (if I haven’t been asked by then): What questions do you have about where babies come from? 
  • Around age 12: You’re getting a phone. What questions do you have about online pornography?
  • Hopefully not too quickly thereafter: You have your first boy/girlfriend. What questions do you have about sex and birth control? 
  • Around this same time (man, those early teenage years are looking tough!): You’re old enough to go out alone with your friends. What questions do you have about drugs and alcohol? 

Mind you, the thought of having any of these conversations with my kids scares the heebie-jeebies out of me. It makes me want to close the door and wrap them up in childhood forever, but I know that’s not realistic. I want them to be informed, responsible, curious, and thoughtful people, and the best way for that to happen is for me, as their mom, to honor and invite their questions about the big issues.

I may need a glass (or four) of wine after the above discussions, but that’s okay. Because I love my kids, these are conversations I truly want to have. 

So let me raise that imaginary wine glass to all of you parents out there: here’s to starting the conversation. Salud.