Not mine, but a pity, as if the printer was connected to the head and printed.
A special thanks and a small gift.

Violated by parental love

A very strong text about how we unwittingly harass the lives of our children, falling in love with them to neurosis, lack of self-esteem and low self-esteem.

“Children are holy. The best for the kids. Let the children live. The flowers of life. joy in the house. Don’t worry, Daddy will do everything for you.

I was so tired of this song. As a parent, as a child and as a future grandfather. Is it enough to love children? Is it time for them to be human?

Personally, I’t want to appear in our time. Too much love. Once you have a date of birth, you become a doll. Mom, dad, grandparents, grandparents immediately start to work out their instincts and complexes on you. You are fed in three throats. You are called a child massager. You are dressed in jeans and jackets for general pleasure, although you have not even learned to sit. And if you are a girl, then in the second year of life you are pierced in the ears to hang the golden eyebrows, which at any cost wants to give a loving aunt Dasha.

By the third birthday, all the toys are no longer placed in the children's room, and by the sixth - in the garden. From day to day, you are first driven, and then driven by children's clothes shops, on the way to restaurants and slot machines halls. Particularly gifted in terms of love, mothers and grandmothers sleep with you in the same bed from ten to ten years, until it begins to be filled with pedophilia. Yes, I almost forgot it! The Planner! The child must have a planner. I would also like an iPhone. Years from three. Because he’s at Sereza, his mother bought him, and she doesn’t seem to earn so much, much less than us. And even Tania has a neighboring group, although she generally lives with her grandmother.

Before school usually ends the “puppet period”, and immediately begins the “correctional-labour period”. Loving parents finally realize that they have done something wrong. The child has excess weight, poor character and attention deficit syndrome. All this gives rise to a new level of exciting game of parental love. This level is called “find a specialist”. Now, with the same enthusiasm, you are dragged by nutritionists, educators, psychoneurologists, just neurologists and just psychologists. Rodna is crazy looking for some miracle that will magical healing results, without changing his own approach to raising the child. These esoteric practices essentially spend a lot of money, nerves and a sea of time. The result is zero whole, a little more than a tenth.

Even for this period is characterized by a desperate attempt to apply to the child the norms of iron discipline and labor ethics. Instead of genuinely engaging the little man with some interest, instead of giving him more freedom and responsibility, relatives line up with a belt and scream. As a result, the child learns to live from under the rod, losing the ability to interest at least something.

When the uselessness of the effort becomes obvious, the stage of broken parental passion begins. Here almost all loving parents suddenly start to abruptly hate their children: "We are for you, and you!"The only difference is that in some this hatred is expressed in complete surrender with the further direction of the child to a closed-type educational institution (Suvorov school, elite British school), and others rub in their head a recording with the inscription "you are my cross!"

Reconciled with the fact that nothing passive came out of a person, parents with Timothy Cross on their neck continue to in their already almost adult child a personality. They get rid of the army, arrange for a paid department at the university, give money for bribes to teachers and just current expenses, buy an apartment, a car, pick up a sinecure to the extent of their capabilities. If by nature Timothy is not too talented, then this strategy even brings some more or less edible fruits - a mentally ill but quite decent citizen grows up. Only much more often for the healing of wounds inflicted by excessive parental love, children are paid completely differently - health, lives, souls.

The cult of children arose in our civilization not so long ago – just some 50-60 years ago. And in many ways it is the same artificial phenomenon as the Coca-Cola Santa Claus jumping out of the tobacco market every year. Children are the most powerful tool to boost the race of consumption. Every square centimeter of a child’s body, not to mention the cubic millimeters of the soul, has long been divided between the producers of goods and services. Forcing a person to love himself with such manic love is still a rather difficult moral and ethical task. The love of the child comes from the middle. Then just turn on the counter.

Of course, that doesn’t mean that they didn’t love kids before. As much as loved. There was no child-centered family before. Adults did not play free animators, they lived their natural life and as they grew up involved their offspring in this life. The children were loved, but they knew from the first flash of consciousness that they were only a part of a large universe called “our family.” There are older people to be respected, there are younger ones to be cared for, there is our business to be involved in, there is our faith to be adhered to.

Today, the market imposes on society the recipe for a family built around a child. This is obviously a losing strategy that exists only to pump money out of households. The market does not want the family to be built properly, because then it will satisfy most of its needs itself, within itself. And the unhappy family likes to outsource their problems. And this habit has long been the foundation for billions of dollars in industries. The ideal, from the point of view of the market, the father is not someone who will spend the weekend with the child, go to the park, ride a bike. The ideal father is someone who will work overtime this weekend to earn a two-hour visit to the water park.

And you know what? And let’s replace in this column the verb “love” with another. To ignore, to care, to be indifferent. Because, of course, such parental love is only one form of selfishness. An angry mother, a hard-working father, is nothing more than a game of instincts. Whatever we say about parental duty and sacrifice, such paternity-maternity is a rough pleasure, a kind of love pleasure, one consistent biology.

There is such a beautiful Indian proverb: “A child is a guest in your house: feed, raise and let go.”

To feed - and the fool will be able, to raise - it is already more difficult, but to be able to let a child from the first minutes of his life slowly - this is love. You’re always right, Chingchuk.”

Dmitry Sokolov-Mitrich