The Explosive Child

 

Usually when you’re navigating a field strewn with landmines, the goal is to avoid them. Who wants an explosion in their face? But with parenting a pre-teen with behavioral challenges, sometimes we have to step right into it. 

I look to the Bible for guidance on how to live, which includes how to parent. Nestled in Hebrews 12, a chapter of the Bible of great significance to my faith journey, is this line: “For the moment, all discipline seems not to be pleasant, but painful; yet to those who have been trained by it, afterward it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness.” 

Here the author is speaking of God as Father, disciplining us His children towards a life of righteousness. But the author employs the analogy of earthly fathers and their children. And in doing so they are taking as given that earthly fathers discipline their children, that discipline is not pleasant but painful, and that discipline yields positive outcomes. The use of this analogy proves that these are unassailable observations, rather than ideas that require explanation or justification. 

And yet for most parents, discipline requires some intentionality. For it isn’t pleasant, for parent or child, so our temptation is to avoid or soften it. In Asher’s case, it hurts him profoundly when we express our disapproval and render some negative consequence for some behavior he has exhibited. And, because his expression of this is usually pretty explosive, it’s no walk in the park for us either to decide on, communicate, and execute the punishment. 

But that’s why I hold that Bible verse so dear. Our goal as parents, my goal in being Asher’s parents, is not to be governed by what is easy and comfortable in the moment. Rather, what we want (and pray and live out on a daily basis) is that we are putting Asher on a journey where he comes more and more righteous. And, on that journey, there will need to be discipline, and that discipline will be painful, but yet it must be rendered still. 

I will not share details of where pre-teen Asher, in the year 2025, is in need of discipline. But any parent of a pre-teen and any parent of a special needs kid can probably relate. It is not pleasant but painful. But it is necessary, so we solder on. 

Growing Pains

 

Our kids are growing up in a world that is difficult to grow up in. It’s not just a mirage that people my age can look back on childhood as a more innocent time, because indeed it was. For better or worse, we didn’t have smart phones or YouTube or social media, with the attendant information overload and assaults to body image and emotional wellbeing. 

On the other hand, I’m lucky that my kids can live in relative ease. They standard of living is more comfortable than mine at the same age, growing up in an immigrant household that was pretty well off but lived below our means because it’s what my parents were used to and because it’s what enabled the foundations upon which my life is based, most importantly education. 

Parenting norms have, not coincidentally, also shifted dramatically. It wasn’t too long ago that kids were secondary in the family orbit, with very little catered to their limitations and interests, and most of their existence consisting of putting the labor to keep the family alive. Nowadays, those of us in upper middle class households very much center our family life around kids’ needs and activities. We are chauffeur and valet and bodyguard and cook and maid and assistant. 

I’ve written before that one of my great joys in life is making breakfast for my kids on vacation. It is a small act of love in the form of servanthood, which is to say I take delight and express affection by serving my kids, in this case literally serving them a meal. And while some of my more mundane parenting responsibilities don’t evoke as much joy, I do recognize the importance and preciousness of things like riding bikes with Asher to his boxing lessons or moving Aaron into his freshman dorm or reading Jada’s college entrance essays. I may be tired when I do these things, I do them willingly and joyfully. 

But I also do them because my kids need me to. They depend on me for their safety. They don’t know how to do things so I have to show them or in some case do things for them (more on this in a sec). They are still growing up in this world and have much to learn in order to navigate it. And it is a sober responsibility I bear to help them prepare. 

But there is a balance between helping and enabling. It is unfortunate to the point of neglect when we are unavailable to our kids or refuse to assist them as they stumble through their transitions from pre-teen to teen to young adult to independent person. 

But growing up involves struggle, for to not struggle is not to really learn. And struggle involves pain. As I often say to Amy, “sometimes it has to sting a little.” The sting of not properly preparing, falling on your face, and learning the hard way that you should’ve prepared. The sting of working hard towards something and still failing, and learning the difficult life lesson that very little is given to you and that sometimes you do everything right and still lose. The sting of doing the wrong thing and suffering the appropriate consequences for it. 

Imagine the opposite of these scenarios. If we stumble into an easy life even though we didn’t work towards it or actively did the wrong things, we age in time but don’t gain in life perspective. And it would not be loving of me as a parent to allow my kids to go down that path. Better to go through the necessary lessons, even and especially if they hurt a little. 

I hope I am not coming across as a masochist. That life stings sometimes is not meant to glorify the pain as good in and of itself. Usually it hurts to watch someone you love get hurt. But if you know it is a necessary pain for a greater good, then you don’t shield them from the sting, just like you would never withhold a vaccine from a kid simply because getting a shot hurts and they don’t like feeling that pain. 

We all seek comfort, including parents for themselves and for their kids. And yet we must have wisdom to know when comfort is in fact the absolute worst thing for ourselves and our kids, and accept the struggle that life gives us sometimes on our journey to adulthood and fulfillment.

A Kid and His Bike, Two Generations in the Making

 

 

It’s no coincidence that my rare personal days, when I check out of both work and parenting, always involve riding my bike somewhere. There are scarcely any greater pleasures than the feeling of freedom I feel when I ride my bicycle, and this goes for both familiar routes and brand new ones. This dates back to my childhood, when learning how to ride a bicycle allowed me to solo explore my neighborhood and beyond. I can tell you exactly what that feeling was like because I feel I am reliving it in the present when I get on my bike.

So it is delightful to see how much Asher has gotten into riding his bike. For him too, bicycling is both a physical activity and a gateway to freedom, and so he seeks and relishes every opportunity. That we can do this together pleases me to no end. For now, our rides are short, but maybe as he gets stronger and older, we can do long rides together, just two kids of different ages exploring our world together and seeing how far and how fast we can go.

Halloween, the Final Season

 

Asher is at prime trick-or-treating age, so today we'll be attending our neighborhood's outrageously fun Halloween parade, followed by a quick bite to refuel, and then going door-to-door as long as our legs will take us. I have gotten into the habit of being the "chaperone dad" for Asher and his friends, going around with flashlights, making sure everyone gets across streets safely, and saying hi to other haggard dad neighbors along the way.

I wonder if, as soon as next year, he's still into trick-or-treating but wants to go around with his friends without parental accompaniment. Which is followed not long after not wanting to trick-or-treat anymore but still wanting to around with his friends, this time to parties and maybe with a little romance in mind. Which means that, since Asher is our youngest, we are nearing the end of a cherished childhood milestone activity. So you'll excuse me if, tonight, I take a few extra pics and wipe away a few tears.

Slow Down

 

 

Though it doesn’t quench my enthusiasm for the sport, I must admit I’m a terrible golfer. Perhaps that’s why I like the game so much, but that’s a thought for another post. 

One thing I’m realizing is that I’m particularly bad when I feel rushed. Golf is an activity that requires extreme concentration for a very short amount of time, over and over again, a level of focus that I often am unable to muster, distracted as I am by all the thoughts swirling around in my noisy head. 

Every round seems like a futile fight between my trying to tell myself to slow down and my inability to do so: 

* If I’m playing with good players, I don’t want to hold them up. If I’m playing with even worse players, they take a lot of time so I feel a particular need to accelerate lest we be on the course all day. 

* If there are groups behind us, I hate the notion that I might be holding them up. If there are groups in front of us, I know I’m supposed to keep up with them to maintain brisk pace of play. 

* If I’m playing solo, it feels like an indulgence that I’m not allowed to luxuriate it because I should be getting back to work or family. If I’m playing with others, I don’t want to hold them up. 

* If it’s extremely cold or hot, I want to finish the round as soon as possible because I’m feeling physically uncomfortable. If it’s pleasant out, the course is invariably crowded so I need to keep things moving. 

Based on the list above, there’s never a time when I’m not feeling a visceral impulse to rush. And we haven’t even gotten to the real reason I can’t slow down: my schedule is crazy. People are always impressed I’ve been devoted enough to my new hobby that I am able to carve out the time every week to engage it, which yes it’s something I work hard to make time for. But, at this stage in my life, “making time” means that to fit the several hours (including driving there, warming up, playing, and driving home) into my schedule, I have to race through a bunch of other obligations in my life before and after: wake up, work out, get groceries, get back to the office, and so on. 

Indeed, one of the great joys of my first ever golf weekend with dear friends was the ability to not only play golf but do other multi-hour activities back-to-back-to-back without having to compensate for such indulgences by racing back to real world responsibilities. Even then, I had to remind myself that I don’t have to rush, because my body and brain are so used to a breakneck pace. 

Kids and work will remain a big part of my life and a challenging thing to juggle in a finite amount of time. But, as we get older, those responsibilities evolve. And, as we get older, our realization of the importance of slowing down and taking time also increases, as does our ability to execute on that realization. I am not yet good at that. But I at least acknowledge that I am not good at it, and that I need to do better. Maybe getting better at golf will be sufficient prod in that direction!

Pre-Teen Asher

 

With Jada in Taiwan and Aaron in Kansas, who would’ve thunk that the biggest transition in the Huang household is that Asher has been replaced by pre-teen Asher? Whether or not Asher’s evolution into a surly teenager-in-making has anything to do with being the only Huang kid at home, his arrival in this phase is pretty much right on schedule. 

Doesn’t make it any less jarring for us his parents. Sure, he still has his sweet moments where he wants to hold hands and do kisses, or walk together to school, or read bedtime stories. But, as we observed with his two older sibs, and as parents have experienced since time immemorial, we are also getting out-of-the-blue outbursts, requests for freedom, and of course a deeper voice. 

“Untangled” is a book about adolescent girl development which I found helpful in understanding what is normal about girls growing up into women. Girls are different than boys, but there is something transferrable about the book’s central metaphor, that growing up is akin to multiple aspects of a child sending out a search party to explore an older version of themselves, and based on what they observed they decide whether to stand pat or move forward. I say “multiple” because (and this is what is often confounding for us parents) this happens along more than one dimension – physical, social, emotional – and are often not synchronized, so someone can act more mature socially than they are emotionally, for example. 

I think this is more pronounced for girls than for boys, but the central premise holds, which is that the pre-teen years for boys and girls are about exploration of a larger version of yourself. Asher is, like all boys his age, trying to figure out who he wants to be as a 5^th grader that is different from whom he was as a 4^th grader. Which means that, when we try to block that search party, it’s frustrating for him because he is desperate for information to know whether to stay the same or move forward. 

There’s no doubt that, as his parents, we sometimes have to block his desired paths for his own safety. But, as hard as it is to launch into the unknown with him, we are trying to give him space where appropriate to experiment and expand. That means giving him freedom, albeit with guardrails and consequences at times, but nonetheless freedom that is oftentimes scary for us to grant since he is still so young. Every day, nay every interaction, seems a tense negotiation of his pushing for more freedom and us either saying sure or alternatively bearing the brunt of his rage when we say no. 

Asher is also getting bigger physically, which is its own dynamic since he is a future large Black man in a world that too often suspects and fears and acts with force against large Black men. Which is something we need to mind in this calculus around giving our pre-teen the appropriate outlets of freedom. To cite one example, we’re really leery about letting him leave the house with toys that look too much like real weapons, which may be good policy for all kids but is especially fraught for our Black boys. This too is a source of tension, as Asher is rightly frustrated that he is hemmed in because of his race and because of the existence of racism. To which we can only and consistently and sympathetically reply, “yes, it’s not fair that some of your friends can do this and you can't, but it’s what we need to do so you’re safe.” 

As with Aaron and Jada, we will blink and pre-teen Asher will give way to teen Asher and then young adult Asher, and we as his parents will need to parent and adapt accordingly. We are to love our kids at every stage of development, and help them in and through every stage of development, and by the grace of God and with the help of our extended village, we are doing our best to do that for Asher in these pre-teen years.

Happy Gotcha Day to Jada

 

Twenty years ago today we met this beautiful human being and became parents for the first time. The process from the phone call we received that "you have a daughter" to that moment involved a few weeks, several administrative steps, and a long flight, and it has all been worth it to watch Jada grow up into an ambitious young woman who is not afraid to want things and work hard to get them. Happy Gotcha Day, Jerds!