Sometimes I wonder if I have sheltered my kids too much while they were growing up. Or maybe it’s just that the world they grew up in has gotten much too protective. Neither one of my girls ever broke a bone, or got in a fight, or was injured just doing stupid stuff.
Which is good, don’t get me wrong, but it makes me wonder how they got this far without getting hurt. And is there a negative side to getting through childhood unscathed? Does this mean that all the life lessons they should have already gotten are still ahead?
Or are too late to learn?
Life isn’t always going to go your way, and I hate to think that I haven’t properly prepared my own kids to face the crap coming their way and keep pushing forward regardless of how hard things might get. I don’t want them thinking that everything should come easily to them and to quit the second anything becomes difficult.
I, on the other hand, have accomplished all of the above childhood goals while growing up: broken bones, fights, avoidable injuries. I learned a great deal about life while earning each and every scar. Some of them, I would do all over again. Others … not so much.
I don’t consider myself a role model, and I don’t recommend the crap I did as a kid to anyone. Much of it was stupid, reckless, and straight up dangerous.
But it was a hell of a lot of fun.
I played football in the street. We didn’t have a park nearby, and the roadway was the only open area large enough to throw a football without breaking somebody’s front window. It wasn’t tackle football. We were morons, but we weren’t suicidal. I fell on that gravel and tar playing field numerous times and have the scars on my knees to prove it. I still remember the wire brush my mom used to wash out all the dirt and rocks that had lodged in the cuts. It was painful and unpleasant, but a couple days later I was back out on the street with my buddies, dodging cars and counting the minutes until the next time I took a nosedive on the pavement.
If I wasn’t playing football, I was riding my bike. We would build flimsy wooden ramps and jump over boxes, bushes, and sometimes even each other. The jumps were not always successful, and I recall multiple occasions when I or one of my friends had to head home with a split lip, bloody nose, or some other (mostly) non-serious injury.
As soon as we got the requisite bandages or ice packs, we were back outside trying another attempt at whatever had knocked us down in the first place.
I learned to not be afraid of getting hurt, taking risks, or even of my own stupidity. That last one has come in remarkably handy my entire life as I do not seem to have outgrown the stupidity.
My girls didn’t take the same risks when they were growing up. Probably because they are both smarter than I am, but also maybe because I didn’t give them the opportunity to try. I wonder if that safe environment was good for them or will ultimately make it harder for them to push through the unavoidable, eventual failures that life will hand them.
Besides, it isn’t always the risks you take that end up causing you the worst injury. Sometimes getting hurt isn’t about being stupid or trying ridiculous things; sometimes it is simply about being in the wrong place at the wrong time or just letting your attention lapse for an instant.
When I was about nine years old, I was at the neighbor’s house playing with a friend of mine. He was using a baseball bat to knock flower buds off a tree branch. I walked up behind him while he was in mid-swing. He didn’t see me, and the bat caught me right across the nose during his follow-through.
The bat broke my nose and cracked my skull below my right eye. I’d like to say I handled the pain with dignity and decorum, but that would be a lie. Several of the neighbors came running out of their houses to see where all the screaming was coming from. I think they thought someone was murdering a cat.
Anyway, my point to that story is that even when you’re not knowingly participating in risky behavior, you never know when something that appears harmless at first glance is going to sneak up on you.
Neither one of us was doing anything wrong, and I still got laid out flat.
So, maybe I should have let the girls take those risks. Win or lose, they would still come away smarter and more experienced when they were done.
I am not suggesting to any parents that may be reading this that they should knowingly let their kids participate in activities likely to get them seriously hurt. It is our job to look out for their safety and well-being.
I am, however, saying that a few bumps and bruises aren’t always such a bad thing. Better they get a little banged up early on than be afraid to take risks later.
Once in a while, when the kids are building that rickety, wooden bike ramp, perhaps we just have to look the other way.
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