TNS – The News on Sunday

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So, I went to a book store and bought, What to Expect When You’re Expecting, and subscribed to babycentre.com’s weekly emails. Back in the day, at my office, there were only two computers connected to the dial-up internet cable, and I would sneakily catch up on online baby advice while I was supposed to be working. More than the memetic wisdom of aunts and mothers (don’t drink strong tea or your child will be born dark, eat for two, sour pickles tamp down the morning sickness), I relied on the research and theories of the child-bearing and rearing publishing industry. Like many women, I didn’t want to repeat the mistakes of the generation before me. For one thing, our mothers were raised with clear ideas about their role in life as women, as reproductive machines, as caregivers, as managers of the house. My generation of women is increasingly rejecting these rigid gender roles. We want a life of ideas and activities, a greater engagement with the outside world, and our parenting style reflects this exposure. [box type="shadow" align="alignright" class="red_lines" ]The truth is every child is different, no one method or piece of advice fits just right. If we are smart, we learn to find a balance between instinct, experience — our own and other’s — and the studies. [/box] The books told me children will potty train when they are ready. Older maternal figures told me you can do it at six months old, look, we did it, why can’t you. The books told me you should let a child cry out a tantrum. Older maternal figures told me, pick up the child as soon as the first whining begins. The books told me a child’s self-esteem can be damaged by relentless criticism, and regulating behaviour is a two-way process that engages a child rather than through one-sided enforcement. Older maternal figures told me behaviour correction should be through scolding, and it should be consistent. The truth is every child is different, no one method or piece of advice fits just right. If we are smart, we learn to find a balance between instinct, experience — our own and other’s — and the studies. The moment I saw my first child, in my foggy, drug-induced state, instinct told me I wanted to deliver the world to her little pink palm. Years later, I learnt that children need to earn the privilege, that the world gifted whole is too heavy for a small hand. If there is one thing this generation of children have in abundance — which we didn’t because either our parents couldn’t afford it, or had other spending priorities — is things. Electronic devices, fidget spinners, dolls, and chocolates and eating out are things our children take for granted. Read also: Take time to make time  Pakistan is increasingly a country of consumers. Research has been telling us that the middle class has been growing rapidly in the last fifteen years. How do we know? Because people are spending more on automobiles and deep freezers, sending children to private schools, taking children to malls and fast food outlets, stuffing them with chips and cookies. And yes, buying them fidget spinners. Aspirational lifestyles tend to move from needs to wants. But imagine if we gave everything a child wants, without waiting for it, without working for it, without valuing it. What kind of adults would they be? Fat, diabetic, impatient, lazy and self-centred. These two things, women’s sense of self and increasing consumerism throws up another challenge, from the socio-economic to the personal: we navigate our guilt, our self-doubt, our failures, our neuroses, and our childhood deprivations through the uphill mazes of parenthood, the toys and treats we weren’t given, the opportunities we didn’t have. Our children cannot be the road to our redemption. That is also too heavy a burden for kids. There is, however, one thing common between the generations, the failure to differentiate between discipline and control. When my youngest daughter, Zainab, was seven, I asked her to tidy up her toys. Instead of an outright tantrum, thankfully she had outgrown those, she lay down under her bed in a dark sulk. I chose to ignore it. But that didn’t work. Half an hour later, it was time for her to change and eat lunch but she still refused to surface. I had two choices then — yell or give it up. For some reason, I decided to talk her out of it, and it turned out to be a flashbulb moment. I hunched down and asked her why she was under the bed. “Because I’m mad at you.” “Why are you mad at me?” “Because you want me to put away the toys.” “They are your toys and your mess. Shouldn’t you tidy them up?” “I wanted your help, but you were too busy talking to Hira.” Hira is my elder daughter. “Does that mean you didn’t like me talking to Hira?” Eyes averted, Zainab slowly nodded yes. Hira had been listening to us and yelled from the other room. “She doesn’t like it when you explain her feelings to her.” I chose to ignore that bit of advice, because I had just learnt something new: even stubborn, seemingly difficult children have their reasons, all we need to do is listen and understand. In some ways, parenting is a series of questions that we ought to try and answer at least every few days, if not every day, regardless of age. As my children became older, I found a way to ask them. At night, as we cuddled and talked, I asked them what was good about their day, what was bad, what made them laugh, what they were grateful for, and one thing they had learnt. Simple direct questions that would yield enlightening, often entertaining answers. Every generation of parents have challenges that are different from the previous generations; the only way to overcome them is to communicate with our children, with other parents, and, in a way, even ourselves. [post_title] => Finding a balance [post_excerpt] => [post_status] => publish [comment_status] => open [ping_status] => open [post_password] => [post_name] => finding-balance-2 [to_ping] => [pinged] => [post_modified] => 2017-09-23 20:52:36 [post_modified_gmt] => 2017-09-23 15:52:36 [post_content_filtered] => [post_parent] => 0 [guid] => http://tns.thenews.com.pk/?p=72030 [menu_order] => 0 [post_type] => post [post_mime_type] => [comment_count] => 0 [filter] => raw [format_content] => ) [1] => WP_Post Object ( [ID] => 72028 [post_author] => 29 [post_date] => 2017-09-24 03:21:57 [post_date_gmt] => 2017-09-23 22:21:57 [post_content] => There are love songs and angry songs, tunes of excitement and wonder, of anguish and misery, of loss and grief. Depending on what you’re in the mood for, there’s a song for it. But rarely, you come across a number which is frightening. Each word rings of horror, of truth and consequence, of your actions or the lack thereof. American singer Harry Chapin wrote one such song, titled, “Cats in the cradle.” And each time that song comes up, it sends shivers down my spine. ‘My child arrived just the other day He came to the world in the usual way But there were planes to catch and bills to pay He learned to walk while I was away And he was talkin’ fore I knew it, and as he grew He’d say ‘I’m gonna be like you Dad You know I’m gonna be like you’ The focus of the song, as may be apparent from the stanza above, is about the relationship between father and son, the former being too busy to be around as the child is born and learns to talk and walk. Many years after the song was released, Chapin admitted ‘Frankly, this song scares me to death’. Me too. Each night, I fall asleep with a nagging fear that I, his father, am unable to give him the time that he needs. Being an only child doesn’t help, because he needs me and his mother even more. But we are both working people — with-full time jobs. How do we sort of balance it out? ‘My son turned ten just the other day He said ‘Thanks for ball, Dad, come on let’s play Can you teach me to throw’, I said, ‘Not today I got a lot to do, He said that’s OK And he walked away but his smile never dimmed And said ‘I’m gonna be like him yeah You know I’m gonna be like him Oh, the horror. How many times has my child, a football fanatic, asked me to kick around a football in the garden, only for me to say the exact same thing. And when his disappointment gets too much to bear, and I end up in the garden with him, the constant interruptions, mostly from work, on the phone, make sure it’s a stop start stop situation. It’s better than nothing I tell myself: better than nothing. [box type="shadow" align="alignright" class="red_lines" ]Every few months, me and my son are alone, for a few days. He calls it ‘our hangout time’. We play a lot of video games, eat junk food and ice cream, and generally fool about. After the ‘hangout’ is over, he can’t stop talking about it for days. [/box] When I was on the cusp of becoming a father — I had one thing in mind: to give my child an upbringing better than what I had been given. And to be fair, I am probably failing on a daily basis. But the vicious cycle of slavery that middle level professionals like myself are stuck in, there is no way out. The work never ends. It’s a series of deadlines one after the other. Phone calls and emails. Text messages and excel sheets. And just so that we can focus on ‘our work’, we toss the nearest digital device to the child, and look away, not knowing what poison he is consuming. And how it’s hampering his mental growth. ‘When he came from college just the other day So much like a man I just had to say Son I’m proud of you, could you sit for a while He shook his head and said with a smile What I’d really like Dad is to borrow the car keys See you later, can I have them please’ My son will go to college in about a decade. Will I have, by then, instilled in him the knowledge and courage to brave it on his own? What about his general knowledge? Have I quizzed him enough to know something about everything? Or have I left it all on the school? What about sports? Can he throw a ball proper? Ride a bicycle? There is just no defence. Read also: Breaking the stereotype Every few months, me and my son are alone, for a few days. He calls it ‘our hangout time’. We play a lot of video games, eat junk food and ice cream, and generally fool about. After the ‘hangout’ is over, he can’t stop talking about it for days. It means that much to him. There’s a famous social experiment where adults were asked who would they like to have dinner with, if they could choose anyone. Someone said Oprah Winfrey, another the Dalai Lama, etc, etc. But when they asked children, their answers were unanimous: With dad and mum. The writing is on the wall. We don’t give our children enough time. There are too many distractions. The hours are too long. We are too selfish. Take time to make time, before it’s too late. ‘I’ve long since retired, my son’s moved away I called him up just the other day I said: ‘I’d like to see you if you don’t mind’ He said. ‘I’d love to, Dad, if I can find the time You see my new job’s a hassle and the kids have the flu But its sure nice talking to you Dad It’s been sure nice talking to you’ And as I hung up the phone it occurred to me He’s grown up just like me My boy was just like me’ [post_title] => Take time to make time [post_excerpt] => [post_status] => publish [comment_status] => open [ping_status] => open [post_password] => [post_name] => take-time-make-time [to_ping] => [pinged] => [post_modified] => 2017-09-23 20:09:03 [post_modified_gmt] => 2017-09-23 15:09:03 [post_content_filtered] => [post_parent] => 0 [guid] => http://tns.thenews.com.pk/?p=72028 [menu_order] => 0 [post_type] => post [post_mime_type] => [comment_count] => 0 [filter] => raw [format_content] => ) [2] => WP_Post Object ( [ID] => 72033 [post_author] => 29 [post_date] => 2017-09-24 03:19:41 [post_date_gmt] => 2017-09-23 22:19:41 [post_content] => “He is from a broken home na”. This proclamation often follows around children of divorced parents as a self-evident reason for all misconduct. When I decided to divorce, my son was six years old. My greatest fear was the social apartheid he would face at school. Peers are usually less of a worry compared to teachers who single out children of ‘broken homes’ as the source of all trouble, a notion that probably helps them justify staying on in their own marriages of convenience. After all, something can only be broken if it is visibly so. Internal fissures, constant strain and psychological stresses can be swept under the rug as long as they stay hidden from the eyes of the world. It is under this social backdrop that I have always taken greater pride in my son receiving glowing remarks on his behaviour over stellar academic grades. How does one raise a child with healthy self-esteem in a society where being different is like having a moving target painted on your back? I don’t say how does one raise a well-adjusted child, for adjustment might not be the highest ideal in what the Indian philosopher Krishnamurti calls “a profoundly sick society”. A sense of self-worth and an ability to navigate circumstances to the best of their abilities is then perhaps some of the best tools we can give to our children, particularly those who are at a social disadvantage for being different. [box type="shadow" align="alignright" class="red_lines" ]Another tough fight is to provide your child with media images of families that aren’t the nuclear, straight and two shiny children model that all Pakistani advertisements seem to favour.[/box] One of the traps that is easiest to fall into as a single parent is to use children as pawns in your fight against your ex-spouse and family. I cannot say I have never fallen into this trap, and one can often be dragged into it if the other party refuses to take the higher moral ground, but consciously choosing to minimize your expression of bitterness for your child’s blood relations is bound to have a positive effect on his overall sense of self. After all, the best way to build self-esteem cannot be to think that your baap dada are thieves and criminals. Another tough fight is to provide your child with media images of families that aren’t the nuclear, straight and two shiny children model that all Pakistani advertisements seem to favour. There are all sorts of families in an increasingly complex world, and our children, whether from a traditional joint or nuclear family or from a different variant of it need to be exposed to the idea of diversity. Read also: Forty rules of parenting Our own media, unfortunately, has no interest in any such depictions. The only portrayal of divorce and children is that of wailing women and hysterical elders, leaving no room for nuanced storytelling or building of positive role models. That leaves us with imported sitcoms that go beyond the conventional notion of family. Full House, with its cheerful cast of three men playing Dad to three growing girls is an eternal favourite that we often played in our house when my son was young. When he grew older we graduated to Modern Family, a show I have my reservations with for incorporating harmful sexist tropes, but whose routine portrayal of a blended and a two-father family breaks down many stereotypes of what a family ought to look like. There are also some great books available locally that talk about diverse families. Readings in Lahore is a great source for such books. Very young children can benefit greatly from being told in direct words that families can be of all types, and being different doesn’t necessarily have to mean being strange or wrong. They say it takes a village to raise a child, grandparents, aunts and uncles can be a huge boon for children of divorced parents. I have always had a healthy support system since my divorce, particularly in my son’s paternal grandparents who have been there for him in every way possible: emotionally, financially and physically. If you are a party on any side of the divorce equation this kind of unselfish devotion to the welfare of the child can be the difference between a happy child and a confused and sad one. Another crucial aspect of raising a confident child as a single parent is to have your child interact with others in similar circumstances. My son and I had the opportunity to be away from Pakistan for the last two years. In New York we became an active part of a Meetup (meetup.com) group for divorced desis. The group has a membership count of 300 divorced men and women from South Asia. Not only does it serve as a great support group for the adults, what it does for the children is even more remarkable. It allows them to be in the company of children around whom they do not feel like anomalies, growing more confident from that experience. With a marked increase in divorce rates in the country, it is time people stopped stigmatising a large and growing population of single parents and their children, and found healthy ways of incorporating this inevitable change. [post_title] => Breaking the stereotype [post_excerpt] => [post_status] => publish [comment_status] => open [ping_status] => open [post_password] => [post_name] => breaking-stereotype [to_ping] => [pinged] => [post_modified] => 2017-09-23 20:54:14 [post_modified_gmt] => 2017-09-23 15:54:14 [post_content_filtered] => [post_parent] => 0 [guid] => http://tns.thenews.com.pk/?p=72033 [menu_order] => 0 [post_type] => post [post_mime_type] => [comment_count] => 2 [filter] => raw [format_content] => ) [3] => WP_Post Object ( [ID] => 72037 [post_author] => 29 [post_date] => 2017-09-24 03:17:56 [post_date_gmt] => 2017-09-23 22:17:56 [post_content] => Love may be nature’s way to trick us into perpetuating our specie but having children changes the game of life fundamentally. We may be captives of nature but it is paradoxically liberating to take control of life. Parenting is arguably the most exhausting voluntary responsibility ever — you take on a job that lasts the rest-of-your-lifetime and one that is mostly thankless. And that’s not even counting the many nights without sleep and the anti-climactic cycle of feeding and cleaning them in the early years. Or even the foolishness and heartaches of their alarming adolescence. The expiry date on parenthood is death. You stop thinking, worrying, praying for your children only when you go lie six feet below in the brown earth that gave you birth. But parenthood is certainly not without its weird wonders and sinful splendours. For one thing, life wouldn’t exist without it. And what could possibly be more precious than consciousness of oneself and the slow realisation of the astounding Universe around us? Much before we choose parenthood (or it is thrust upon us with vengeance, which is usually the case for us in Pakistan, often by our parents than by our hearts) we are ourselves the result of parenthood. [box type="shadow" align="alignright" class="red_lines" ]In the first stage, we are children to our parents. In the second, we are parents to our children. In the third, we are parents to our parents. In the fourth, we are children to our children. That then is the bare-bones of parenthood: both an ecstasy and a horror.[/box] Life is often beautiful when you’re growing up. Even the economically marginalised often nurse this feeling. But it never really occurs to us to thank our parents for this gift until it’s our turn at parenthood. The biggest tax on life is not what the Federal Board of Revenue conspires against us (though Lord knows it feels that way) as a penalty for a gifted joy. Parenthood is. As I near the personal milestone of completing 50 years of life I find myself increasingly pondering where did all these years go? They are slipping through my fingers. As a parent of two teens who are technically adults, having crossed the abstract landmark of turning 18 (they become freewill practitioners much earlier these days), it is rarely without startling myself every day that I realise how much effort it has taken to make them who the wonderful unique selves they are. Read also: Three millennials and us It takes a full 18 years to nurture your children to 18 years. Not a single day less. The TORs of parenthood of children come without weekends, public holidays or summer vacations. Parenthood may have its evolutionary imperatives and biological compulsions, and provide its sociological highs, but it does not come without its economic consequences. There used to be a time when children were raised not just by parents but by extended families. Even the neighbourhood and society-at-large chipped in. It used to ‘take a village’, as they say. My generation is one of the last ones who were nurtured this way in our early years. Now the costs are prohibitive. Take formal education. A good private urban school primary-to-matriculation education in Pakistan can cost you north of Rs2.5m per child. Higher education costs can climb to three times as much. Don’t even try calculating the expenses of their clothes, food, communications (those dreaded shiny mobiles and tablets) and other sundry costs all these years. Children are ‘a bundle of joy’, sure. Only if you don’t think too much about the ‘bundle of cash’ you pay for this joy. This is not a lament, really, but determines what you do with the best years of your life: keeping the world comfortable for your children. After all, if we think education is expensive, we should try ignorance. But parenthood, above all, is not just a fundamental experience of us being human. It is, really, part of the grand adventure of Life itself. All Life. At the heart of the tenacious rebellion against Nothingness — after all, the Universe is hostile to biology— lies Life. And at the heart of Life lies parenthood. It’s the manifestation of the primal duty of Life. It’s who we are and what makes us, us! Until we acquire a post-Human phase in our Darwinian evolution when we morph from a biological existence to a machine manifestation (and beyond, into an evolved higher massless ‘ascension’ — what they call ‘Singularity’), at the human-sociological level, the Cycle of Life has four distinct stages. Each deals with parenthood. In the first stage, we are children to our parents. In the second, we are parents to our children. In the third, we are parents to our parents. In the fourth, we are children to our children. That then is the bare-bones of parenthood: both an ecstasy and a horror. The children, the result of our parenthood, are biology’s way of transcending our tragic physical limitations. It is how we combat Eternity. By passing on the baton. Children are literally a life-affirming link between the past and the future. I can’t bring back my father from oblivion — now gone for 20 years, and how I miss him every single day; or turn back Time to bring my bed-ridden mother to her zesty old-self again — but every single day I sneak a look at Miran and Sunaina, Ismat and my children, and I see that they will travel to the stars and they’ll take a bit of my parents (and their parents before them), and me, with them. Parenthood is worth it all. [post_title] => Weird wonders, sinful splendours [post_excerpt] => [post_status] => publish [comment_status] => open [ping_status] => open [post_password] => [post_name] => weird-wonders-sinful-splendours [to_ping] => [pinged] => [post_modified] => 2017-09-23 20:35:46 [post_modified_gmt] => 2017-09-23 15:35:46 [post_content_filtered] => [post_parent] => 0 [guid] => http://tns.thenews.com.pk/?p=72037 [menu_order] => 0 [post_type] => post [post_mime_type] => [comment_count] => 0 [filter] => raw [format_content] => ) [4] => WP_Post Object ( [ID] => 72036 [post_author] => 29 [post_date] => 2017-09-24 03:13:33 [post_date_gmt] => 2017-09-23 22:13:33 [post_content] => Let’s start with facts. Babies don’t come with instruction books and no parents are perfect. Everyone learns on the job. Some lessons can be learnt from the experience of others before us and from our own parents, but these are of limited value as times and circumstances change, as do the challenges. Moreover, each family is unique and what works in one family may be completely wrong in another. Read also: Weird wonders, sinful splendours So, basically it’s a hit and miss for most parents. Albeit, some general rules may still be extracted from the wisdom of ages. We could well call them the forty rules of parenting:

• Do not befriend the little monsters. They are conniving and exploitative. Establish your authority from day one.  (It won’t last long).
• In a joint family setting, be clear who the alpha dog is going to be and if it’s not you then so be it. Accept it gracefully. The children will sense divisions and play them against you.
• The good cop, bad cop game has few merits. The good cop often ends up over compensating and the bad cop gets stuck in a bad role for life.
• Do not fuss over food. No child will stay hungry for long, but do have the right options available when they go looking. If you’ve stocked up on chips, candies and instant noodles, it is unlikely the child will choose an apple to snack.
• When screaming at them, remember to scream in the mother tongue or they will pick out a small mistake and plague you with it for the rest of your life.
• Do not attempt to chase them unless you are sure you are quick enough to catch them, otherwise you just end up looking silly. A mis-aimed slipper is another no no.
• Most children are amenable to bribes. Use this weapon judiciously.
• Try not to hit. It’s counterproductive. Besides it’s inevitably you who ends up more hurt.
• Actions speak louder than words. If you want them to work hard, value time, be truthful, honest — show them. Don’t lecture.
• Make family traditions. Celebrating occasions, having family rituals, doing things for each other, creates bonds. Establishing routines gives stability. In an uncertain, often hostile outside world these familiar constants are like emotional anchors.
• Bank happy memories. They come in use when times are rough. And it’s the ordinary moments that stick. Hair oiling days, notes in the lunch box, movie nights, birthday surprises…
• Play board games. Also, sometimes let them be bored.
• Read to them. I’d put this on top of the list.
• Do joint family activities rather than buying expensive things. Go on trips, fix the garden, wash the motorbike/car. Things lose value but experiences last. Have fun together.
• Eat together. Many a family issue can be resolved over the dining table.
• Do not make rules you cannot implement.
• Encourage outdoor activities and sports. Let them get dirty. ‘Daagh to achay hotay hain’.
• Allow scribbles and posters on the bedroom walls
• Dress them nicely. They will blame you forever for bad fashion choices.
• Be fair. Treat boys and girls the same. Let them have the same toys, the same freedoms and the same responsibilities
• Have zero tolerance for bad language and violence
• Talk to them. Always.
• Know who their friends are, what their favourite book, movie, teacher and subject is. Ask to see their snapchat stories…or whatever the latest thing is.
• Try not to invade their privacy by going through pockets, drawers, phones, diaries  (have done it all…bad idea).
• Do not criticise looks and physical appearance.
• Do not nag. If she’s not going to sit straight then she’s not going to sit straight. And if he is going to smoke, tell him a 1000 times. Only. Then stop.
• Let them know they are more than their grades. This goes both for the over-achievers and the strugglers. High grades do not make them better than others and low grades do not make them any less. There is more to life than grades.
• Do not ask them to come up to your expectations, fulfill your dreams, or do what you could not do. Let them be their own persons.
• Love them unconditionally. The brats.
• Tell them that failure is ok.
• Tell them their only competition is with themselves. They just need to be the best versions of themselves.
• Patience and acceptance. Gold.
• Resist giving them unrestricted access to gadgets for as long as possible. This will only work if other options are more attractive. (So much easier said than done).
• Educate and inform about cyber security. Gosh, this is a serious one.
• Accept when they are smarter than you. Hand over your gadgets.
• Be humble. Let them be your teachers.
• Keep up with the slang. When you overhear them talking about the rents, do not suspect they are making monthly incomes from hidden properties. They are talking about you. Lmao.
• Respect them and their choices.
• Have a life of your own. Don’t become emotional baggage.
• Teach them to be kind and brave.

If you can do a half decent job, you’ll probably get more joy from them than heartache, and if you’re very lucky, you’ll get good nursing care when the end comes. I would call that successful parenting. [post_title] => Forty rules of parenting [post_excerpt] => [post_status] => publish [comment_status] => open [ping_status] => open [post_password] => [post_name] => forty-rules-parenting [to_ping] => [pinged] => [post_modified] => 2017-09-23 20:34:44 [post_modified_gmt] => 2017-09-23 15:34:44 [post_content_filtered] => [post_parent] => 0 [guid] => http://tns.thenews.com.pk/?p=72036 [menu_order] => 0 [post_type] => post [post_mime_type] => [comment_count] => 0 [filter] => raw [format_content] => ) [5] => WP_Post Object ( [ID] => 72042 [post_author] => 29 [post_date] => 2017-09-24 03:13:23 [post_date_gmt] => 2017-09-23 22:13:23 [post_content] => As a father, how do you relate to your three millennial daughters? Well, I must thank my wife for facilitating my good relations with my daughters. Not that I was unable to strike a similar frequency with them. There were many occasions when I would relate better with them than my wife. Claiming that we never had any challenges would be wrong; our challenges were more about management than controlling. We decided much earlier in our married life that we would let our daughters grow on auto-pilot with occasional steering. One of the first challenges I faced was to convince my daughters about the futility of grades in school system. Initially, they could not understand why their father was least concerned with their report card, while all other parents put extraordinary stress on high achievement in tests. Our challenge was exactly the opposite of other parents. Here, we were trying to convince our children not to exert too much pressure on themselves and find time to enjoy life as it was. It took them a while to learn how not to compare a person’s potential in terms of school grades. [box type="shadow" align="alignright" class="red_lines" ]Once they cross the teen-age period new challenges arise: the university education and the desire to see them grow as responsible citizens. Should or shouldn’t we send them abroad?[/box] The second challenge was to guide them about the importance of good utilisation of their time. If you don’t spend each hour and minute on textbooks, you can’t just while away your time. They had to develop a habit of finding ways to keep them occupied in more productive and useful tasks. The charm of stories had to be displayed and that we did not only with story books but also with visual stimulation through movies. When they were small we watched and discussed movies, such as Shrek and Toy Story. But then my challenge was to persuade them to go beyond what everybody else in their age group was watching. Making them sit through 50-year-old movies, such as Wizard of Oz and Bambi was not difficult. Soon they realised that it was fun and they were developing a unique narrative to share with their friends. Then came feature films, such as Singin’ in the Rain, Sound of Music, and Marry Poppins; all becoming their favourites. Now they were on their own to look for and watch some of the best movies ever produced anywhere in the world. With this background, suddenly we found ourselves with the challenges of the digital age and mobile technology. Our first daughter got her cell phone at the age of 16, second at 14, and the third daughter at 12. Now how do you keep them away from their phones? That has been a big challenge for us. Though my wife kept reminding me of the ill-effects of allowing them to keep their phones all the time, I seldom took away their phones. I did it under extreme conditions when I realised that it was becoming an obsession. My suggestion to parents would be to not allow their children 24/7 access to cell phones. Read also: The back flip  Once they cross the teen-age period new challenges arise: the university education and the desire to see them grow as responsible citizens. Should or shouldn’t we send them abroad? My answer was to encourage them to get a scholarship. When my eldest daughter won a place at a youth exchange programme for one year of high school in the USA she was 16. The extended family started wagging their tongue but we were clear about this. Our daughter didn’t adjust in the US easily and had to change three foster families but, in the end, it was a worthwhile experience for her. When the second daughter won a place for an exchange university semester in Tokyo, Japan, she was 20. Our challenge was not to convince anyone but to adjust to the fact that we were becoming empty nesters. With just one child left at home the challenge was not to howl at each other and keep a happy married life intact. That challenge was soon overcome and we found for ourselves some more likeminded new friends. This strategy worked and our youngest daughter who had lost two sisters to university had to keep herself busy and learn some new skills, such as learning to play the piano. The most important challenge that I still face and have been unable to overcome is to make them share their feelings with me. I come home, try to strike a conversation with them and after a couple of sentences there is a wall of silence. Maybe I have become difficult to access or they have become more self-centred, I can’t figure out. This doesn’t happen always, but when it does I am at a loss to unpack my child from her cocoon, and that is the most frustrating challenge that I face. [post_title] => Three millennials and us [post_excerpt] => [post_status] => publish [comment_status] => open [ping_status] => open [post_password] => [post_name] => three-millennials-us [to_ping] => [pinged] => [post_modified] => 2017-09-23 20:41:13 [post_modified_gmt] => 2017-09-23 15:41:13 [post_content_filtered] => [post_parent] => 0 [guid] => http://tns.thenews.com.pk/?p=72042 [menu_order] => 0 [post_type] => post [post_mime_type] => [comment_count] => 0 [filter] => raw [format_content] => ) [6] => WP_Post Object ( [ID] => 72034 [post_author] => 29 [post_date] => 2017-09-24 03:11:00 [post_date_gmt] => 2017-09-23 22:11:00 [post_content] => “Before I married, I had six theories about bringing up children, but no children; now I have six children and no theories”

— John Wilmot,

Second Earl of Rochester

Parents to daughters, Suhani aged, 13 and Falisha 11, we may be relatively young in experience, but have come some way — in terms of air miles, schools and teachers — Pakistani, Indian, Sri Lankan and Filipino, to identify a few. But mostly, we now learn about how to be in business from the girls themselves. Who knows someday, in the future, we might be forced to break path with an account pivoted on role reversal. After all, Falisha used to sing Mein Tenu Samjhawan Ki (How Do I Make You Understand) with some lilt at 5, whilst adding Turkish, English and Urdu songs to the repertoire. Now 11, last week, she questioned her mom about why we were not more effusive with PDA (public display of affection); even suggesting it was the ‘romantic thing to do’! We did have the benefit of own experience (as kids to our parents) to start with, but it soon dawned that we would have to constantly adapt and innovate. Children are born for a different age — a world which will not necessarily mirror ours when they grow up, and which is where we tend to make a mistake in trying to sometimes, unwittingly, cast them in our mould. But we did stick to a few core ideas and values that helped us navigate the phantasmagoria of life. As siblings, we had benefited a great deal from travelling with my father serving in diplomatic missions abroad. So the first thing we did as parents when we went scouting for schools in Islamabad was to try to find one where ideally, they would mix with students of different ethnic, cultural and even international backgrounds. [box type="shadow" align="alignright" class="red_lines" ]Tools are important, too. There can be a never-ending argument about how much of an indulgence say, an iPad or notebook is, or isn’t. But then again, a degree of freedom for both educational and entertainment purposes, have served the kids very well in our case. [/box] We hit the straps at one which had more than a dozen nationalities. I’ve always felt there’s an opportunity there to set in motion ingredients for a more rounded personality in later life. Both the girls had an early chance at integration and embracing diversity. I and my wife continue to balance out the parent equation: she’s the ‘benevolent dictator’ in drawing the line, and I’m admittedly, ‘anti-establishment’ (loathe to social conditioning). I happily stand accused of allowing our kids ‘too much’ freedom to do their thing, and yet report excellent academic results, which is great given we’ve never pushed the kids to the edge like some parents do. Read also: Editorial The freedom regime is rooted in openness. Both my wife and I are close friends to our daughters. When the younger one came to me early last year armed with the right biological conclusion of how babies come into the world, I chose not to turn the clock back. It left my wife slightly bemused, but I assured her it was a better choice than having to set up a Truth and Reconciliation Commission later on! We also watch age appropriate films together, in the cinema and at home. I have seen them develop a very good sense of judgement because of it — besides a taste for the arts. Both can review work remarkably well, with a critical mien to boot. They can, as a result, also fictionalise with flair when writing stories and essays. Tools are important, too. There can be a never-ending argument about how much of an indulgence say, an iPad or notebook is, or isn’t. But then again, a degree of freedom for both educational and entertainment purposes, have served the kids very well in our case. The one sticking point remains their desire to own a smartphone, which is one territory, where we don’t want them to go just yet. Talking of tools, just as important is providing them with the means for mental and physical growth. Recreation, sports in particular, must be encouraged in a gender-free realm. Though our older one is more inclined to arts as a medium, her sibling has defied the odds, including a doctor’s advice for her not to indulge “boys’ sport” after a freak injury at football. She made sure to reinforce the possible, slamming five goals, no less, in her first field encounter three years ago against a boys’ team at school! She has also won regularly at athletics, and tried her hand at handball and cricket, too. It has helped, of course, that they have followed the mantra “what men can do, women can do better” as an advice. A couple of years ago, Falisha questioned the notion, in a classroom discussion on gender roles, where the teacher alluded to the idea of strength as being a male preserve. Citing the examples of Benazir Bhutto and Malala Yousafzai, she argued that “strength lay in character and idea, and therefore, it was wrong to assume physical strength as the fount of power”. On another occasion, Suhani drew my attention to the absence of a female panelist on Geo News’ show, Report Card, as being “unfair and unrepresentative of nearly half the country’s population”. Wonder if my subsequent social media post on this score led to a course correction because Marvi Sarmad became a regular presence in its wake! [post_title] => The back flip [post_excerpt] => [post_status] => publish [comment_status] => open [ping_status] => open [post_password] => [post_name] => back-flip [to_ping] => [pinged] => [post_modified] => 2017-09-23 20:49:13 [post_modified_gmt] => 2017-09-23 15:49:13 [post_content_filtered] => [post_parent] => 0 [guid] => http://tns.thenews.com.pk/?p=72034 [menu_order] => 0 [post_type] => post [post_mime_type] => [comment_count] => 0 [filter] => raw [format_content] => ) [7] => WP_Post Object ( [ID] => 72181 [post_author] => 29 [post_date] => 2017-09-24 03:10:41 [post_date_gmt] => 2017-09-23 22:10:41 [post_content] => This is something that is usually taken for granted, as if people know what parenting means. But it’s not as simple. Even those who think of themselves as perfect parents often falter, though they may not admit. Parenthood may come naturally but parenting doesn’t. What are the challenges of parenting today is what today’s Special Report is all about. There is of course no perfect formula that fits all but are the parents thinking about children’s needs and their own. Do they need some support mechanisms? More than one parent writing for this report have underscored the need to talk with children. One of their major concerns remains: are the gadgets harming or improving children? What about diverse families, those where children are being raised by single parents? Is parenting only a mother’s job? Just to break the stereotype, we asked four fathers and three mothers to tell us what they think of parenting. Over to you… Read: Finding a balance  [post_title] => Editorial [post_excerpt] => [post_status] => publish [comment_status] => open [ping_status] => open [post_password] => [post_name] => editorial-94 [to_ping] => [pinged] => [post_modified] => 2017-09-23 20:52:24 [post_modified_gmt] => 2017-09-23 15:52:24 [post_content_filtered] => [post_parent] => 0 [guid] => http://tns.thenews.com.pk/?p=72181 [menu_order] => 0 [post_type] => post [post_mime_type] => [comment_count] => 0 [filter] => raw [format_content] => ) ) [post_count] => 8 [current_post] => -1 [in_the_loop] => [post] => WP_Post Object ( [ID] => 72030 [post_author] => 29 [post_date] => 2017-09-24 03:23:31 [post_date_gmt] => 2017-09-23 22:23:31 [post_content] => When I was three months pregnant with my first child, I was 25 years old and living in a city far away from my mother and my mother-in-law. So, I went to a book store and bought, What to Expect When You’re Expecting, and subscribed to babycentre.com’s weekly emails. Back in the day, at my office, there were only two computers connected to the dial-up internet cable, and I would sneakily catch up on online baby advice while I was supposed to be working. More than the memetic wisdom of aunts and mothers (don’t drink strong tea or your child will be born dark, eat for two, sour pickles tamp down the morning sickness), I relied on the research and theories of the child-bearing and rearing publishing industry. Like many women, I didn’t want to repeat the mistakes of the generation before me. For one thing, our mothers were raised with clear ideas about their role in life as women, as reproductive machines, as caregivers, as managers of the house. My generation of women is increasingly rejecting these rigid gender roles. We want a life of ideas and activities, a greater engagement with the outside world, and our parenting style reflects this exposure. [box type="shadow" align="alignright" class="red_lines" ]The truth is every child is different, no one method or piece of advice fits just right. If we are smart, we learn to find a balance between instinct, experience — our own and other’s — and the studies. [/box] The books told me children will potty train when they are ready. Older maternal figures told me you can do it at six months old, look, we did it, why can’t you. The books told me you should let a child cry out a tantrum. Older maternal figures told me, pick up the child as soon as the first whining begins. The books told me a child’s self-esteem can be damaged by relentless criticism, and regulating behaviour is a two-way process that engages a child rather than through one-sided enforcement. Older maternal figures told me behaviour correction should be through scolding, and it should be consistent. The truth is every child is different, no one method or piece of advice fits just right. If we are smart, we learn to find a balance between instinct, experience — our own and other’s — and the studies. The moment I saw my first child, in my foggy, drug-induced state, instinct told me I wanted to deliver the world to her little pink palm. Years later, I learnt that children need to earn the privilege, that the world gifted whole is too heavy for a small hand. If there is one thing this generation of children have in abundance — which we didn’t because either our parents couldn’t afford it, or had other spending priorities — is things. Electronic devices, fidget spinners, dolls, and chocolates and eating out are things our children take for granted. Read also: Take time to make time  Pakistan is increasingly a country of consumers. Research has been telling us that the middle class has been growing rapidly in the last fifteen years. How do we know? Because people are spending more on automobiles and deep freezers, sending children to private schools, taking children to malls and fast food outlets, stuffing them with chips and cookies. And yes, buying them fidget spinners. Aspirational lifestyles tend to move from needs to wants. But imagine if we gave everything a child wants, without waiting for it, without working for it, without valuing it. What kind of adults would they be? Fat, diabetic, impatient, lazy and self-centred. These two things, women’s sense of self and increasing consumerism throws up another challenge, from the socio-economic to the personal: we navigate our guilt, our self-doubt, our failures, our neuroses, and our childhood deprivations through the uphill mazes of parenthood, the toys and treats we weren’t given, the opportunities we didn’t have. Our children cannot be the road to our redemption. That is also too heavy a burden for kids. There is, however, one thing common between the generations, the failure to differentiate between discipline and control. When my youngest daughter, Zainab, was seven, I asked her to tidy up her toys. Instead of an outright tantrum, thankfully she had outgrown those, she lay down under her bed in a dark sulk. I chose to ignore it. But that didn’t work. Half an hour later, it was time for her to change and eat lunch but she still refused to surface. I had two choices then — yell or give it up. For some reason, I decided to talk her out of it, and it turned out to be a flashbulb moment. I hunched down and asked her why she was under the bed. “Because I’m mad at you.” “Why are you mad at me?” “Because you want me to put away the toys.” “They are your toys and your mess. Shouldn’t you tidy them up?” “I wanted your help, but you were too busy talking to Hira.” Hira is my elder daughter. “Does that mean you didn’t like me talking to Hira?” Eyes averted, Zainab slowly nodded yes. Hira had been listening to us and yelled from the other room. “She doesn’t like it when you explain her feelings to her.” I chose to ignore that bit of advice, because I had just learnt something new: even stubborn, seemingly difficult children have their reasons, all we need to do is listen and understand. In some ways, parenting is a series of questions that we ought to try and answer at least every few days, if not every day, regardless of age. As my children became older, I found a way to ask them. At night, as we cuddled and talked, I asked them what was good about their day, what was bad, what made them laugh, what they were grateful for, and one thing they had learnt. Simple direct questions that would yield enlightening, often entertaining answers. Every generation of parents have challenges that are different from the previous generations; the only way to overcome them is to communicate with our children, with other parents, and, in a way, even ourselves. 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