"'Cause I told you, my level of concern
But you walked by like you never heard
And you could bring down my, level of concern
Just need you to tell me we're alright, tell me we're okay
Tell me we're alright, tell me we're okay
Tell me we're alright, tell me we're okay
Bring down my, level of concern
Just need you to tell me we're alright, tell me we're okay..."
–twenty one pilots, Level of Concern
"Beatrice, what are you doing? Stop! Wait for us!" I called out to her.
She stopped, turned and said, "Why do you always have to sound mean, Dad? Can't you ask nicely?"
I paused, and then said, "Bea, I'm sorry. I'm not being mean, but you are too far ahead of us. Please, wait for us."
"Okay," she said.
"I love you, Sweetie. Thank you for pointing out my tone. I will work on it."
She wasn't wrong either. There was an edge to my voice and it's something I do again and again. My Daddy Goat Gruff as I've always called it. I'm not a tough guy, never was, and never will be. My voice may carry a masculine boom, but I'm really just a loving dad who parents the best he can. The girls know this, and yet in Bea's pre-tween shadow, it's amplified. My wife, Amy, reminds me that I don't have to be so gruff to parent, and she's right. I don't.
But I don't ever belittle or shame my children. Never have. Never will. Both Amy and I parent firmly and positively when things aren't done that we asked, or when things are done that they weren't supposed to do. They are the kids, we are the parents, and no matter what, we look at them through eyes of love, always. We can all push back, but we never shove each other to the ground.
We meet every week as a family, usually Sundays, and share compliments, gratitude, appreciation and "noticing" -- something nice we notice about each other and/or ourselves that we share as a family. We also review managing our emotions, safety plans at home and outside of the home, and anything else that's on our minds. We remind each what we have in common and revel in our positive differences.
We are their parents and they are our children and we are in this together. During this pandemic, we've never lost sight of that. We still want them to be kids today. Let us worry about all the adult stuff. Let them know that we're alright.
However, there's been more than one deadly virus thriving today. Like angry and abusive parents, too many of us belittle and shame each other every damn day because we feel our way is the only way, and all others are ignorant. We don't want to hear each other; we don't want to truly see each other. We only want to hurt each other.
This doesn't mean we don't share some of the same concerns, want to change the world for the better, and to ensure a safer world for our families and communities. And for us, that means we just want our girls to be safe and healthy, armed with masks and social distancing, as well as armed with strong emotional and physical safety skills (thank you Kidpower!).
And if you don't agree, that's okay, but I bet we've got more in common that we're willing to acknowledge on Facebook, or even in real life. Sarcasm and wit can cut quick and deep, but to what end if we all bleed out?
Especially under the weight of today, look at each other through eyes of love. Effect positive change with each other through empathy and eyes of love. And on the day after America's Independence Day 2020, the irony is how interdependent we really all are when we choose eyes of love.
Other "Days of Coronavirus" posts:
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