You Have to Love Your Kids; It's Even Better to Like Them!

You don’t have to like your kids, but you do have to love them. I heard that or read that a while ago (maybe it was from John Rosemond but I’m not sure of the source).

Think about it. There’s a lot of time when you don’t really like the little crapperheads based on something they may have done or some quirk of their personality or behavior. But you absolutely have to love them.

I’ve made several postings lately about my children, things in their childhood and small things in their lives which say something about my feelings or which bring on a smile. Today, I’m going to touch on the best thing. The absolute best time I ever had with my kids.


Mike and Susan at Mike's Wedding Rehearsal Dinner

It was 2004. I had been living in Southern California for 6 years and my kids lived in the Midwest. Mike was 22 and Susan 20. Mike lived with his fiancé in Ames, Iowa and Susan 30 miles away in Des Moines, still at home with her Mom.

I had to travel to Detroit for a weeklong training meeting and decided to take a couple of extra days and stop over in Des Moines to see the kids. I was able to spend some time with each of them individually and on Saturday night have dinner with them, with Mike’s fiancé and with Susan’s boyfriend in Ames.

I cooked steaks on the grill at Mike’s apartment and we had dinner together, talking and chatting, getting to know Susan’s boyfriend and getting better acquainted with Mike’s fiancé, Katie. We played some cards and all in all had a terrific evening.

It didn’t dawn on me until the next day when I was flying on to Detroit and thinking on the airplane about my kids and how much I missed them and loved them. This grand epiphany was that I genuinely liked my children. I really liked them as people, not just my kids. I really enjoyed their company, their personalities, their outlook, the way they thought and conversed and laughed. I LIKED them!

And I admired them. I admired the young adults they had become. Self-confident, articulate, responsible adults who you would be proud to call your friend.

It didn’t make any difference in how much I loved them. But I was proud of my kids. And how they had turned out OK without their Father in their everyday lives (obviously their Mother had done a good job).

We all know what a pain in the butt kids can be—particularly teenagers. It perhaps shouldn’t amaze us when they turn into great adults. But, to me it’s fantastic to really like the person that they’ve become and to know that, no matter what, they’re going to be all right.

And, to quote Forrest Gump: “That’s all I’ve got to say about tha-at.”

"Pajamas" and Nightly Questions

There’s something about a freshly bathed child, dressed in a “onesie” ready for bed. It’s storytime followed by tuck-in time. Or at our house Pajamas time.

Many were the nights that I performed this “duty” when my children were little. My attitude was that I couldn’t nurse my babies but I could bathe them and get them ready for bed allowing my wife a well-deserved respite. (She would have taken care of the kids while I fixed dinner and I would get them ready for bed while she cleaned up from dinner).

I could go on for pages about the number of times that each Dr. Seuss or Berenstain Bear book was read. (Susan was always partial to the Berenstain Bears and Mike preferred Dr. Seuss). I loved the way the kids smelled freshly scrubbed, powdered and diapered with just a hint of formula on their breath.

From the time Mike (2 years older) was an infant until Susan was 7 or 8 tuck-in time was always followed by a song—one of my all time favorite kids songs. It’s off the late 70’s album “In Harmony” which was produced by Sesame Street. This magical album (which I wore out twice on “vinyl” and once on cassette and you can get it now on CD) featured the Doobie Brothers, Bette Midler, James Taylor, Carlie Simon, Al Jarreau, Linda Ronstadt, George Benson plus Ernie and Cookie Monster.




My favorite song though was written and performed by Livingston Taylor and it’s called “Pajamas”.

I sang this song to my kids every night for years. There were times when I had an evening meeting and I would get out of it in time to tuck the kids in and sing to them. Sometimes I left the meeting, went home for my nightly ritual and then returned to the meeting. (Small towns seem to be a bit more tolerant of this element of life).

I still love this delightful little song. Here are the lyrics:

Pajamas
By Livingston Taylor

I've got my pajamas on
Before I go to bed I'm going to run around.
I'm standing on my head
And the world is upside down.

Me and Wilson, my teddy bear
We're going to do a lot of wiggling
Before we go upstairs
Watch out you lions you tigers you bears
I've got my pajamas on

Mommy said put 'em on
I said no
Daddy said let's go
I said all right
I'm clean and I'm warm
and I'm out of sight
I've got my pajamas on

I'm in Daddy's lap, fading fast
Wilson, if you want to mess around
You'll have to do it alone
I love being little
And I'll love being grown
I've got my pajamas on.

Here’s a link to a sample of the song on Artist Direct:
http://www.artistdirect.com/nad/window/media/page/0,,106395-12233316,00.html

There was another part of the nightly ritual. It was called “Questions”. I really wanted my children to know—to absolutely know—as the last thing they heard from me at night that they were loved. No matter what. If they had been naughty during the day or cranky. (Or if I had been either of those things too). They should go to sleep feeling safe and secure and cherished.

I would tuck them each in—for a while they shared a bedroom—and kneel on the floor looking at my children, ready to drift off. I would softly ask the questions as they were snuggling in and drifting off, answers coming back at me more slowly and softly as sleep overtook them.

“Does Mommy love Mikey and Susan?”
“Does Daddy love Mikey and Susan?”
“Does Eric (their brother) love Mikey and Susan?”
“Do Grandma and Grandpa and Grandma and Grandpa love Mikey and Susan?”
“Does puppy dog Shorts love Mikey and Susan?”
“Does everyone love Mikey and Susan?”
“Is it time to go night-night?”
“Are you going to see happy pictures when you sleep?”
“What kind of pictures are you going to see?”

Go to sleep and see your pictures.
Night, night. I love you

They would drift off with the look of innocent children on their faces. I would kiss each of them goodnight, turn off the light and slip out of their rooms. Checking back a little later just to see them again; asleep, at peace, hopefully dreaming “happy pictures”.

I miss doing that. It was always incredibly relaxing for me too. The last time I asked Questions was when my daughter was about 19, lonely and down and she called one night. Because she wanted Questions. I was delighted to oblige. And I still am.