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being a single parent, child rearing, China, daughters, family, foreign travel, lessons children learn, single mom, single mum, single parenting, travel, traveling with children
Thinking over my last post and having done the venting that I needed to do. I want to add that I do think, in many respects, the Chinese do things right. I terms of thinking about bodily functions there’s no glossing over, or creating euphemistic names for things. A penis doesn’t become a willy. If you need to use the toilet, you simply ask, “where’s the toilet”? You don’t shyly, with an embarrassed tittering voice, ask for the W.C. or the Ladies’. Everybody has to use the toilet. Fact. So there’s no embarrassment, no feigned embarrassment about things. If you can see someone’s bra strap peeping out from under a shirt, so what? Women wear bras. Men and women wear undergarments, so what? Most people do. A little child wears split pants and you can see clearly if the child is male or female, so what? So, in that respect I do admire the Chinese for not mincing words and creating a culture of people too removed from their own bodily functions, or body parts, or wearing of “necessaries” to do them good.
As Amelia grows, I try to use correct terms for things. She’ll learn in school all the terms she won’t at home. You can be matter-of-fact and clinical without being ridiculous. Like saying she needs to do a B.M. (bowel movement for those unfamiliar) rather than poop, or some other euphemism because needing to eliminate, and needing to ask where to proper place is to do so shouldn’t feel unpleasant, dirty or wrong.
Sometimes, I do think the Chinese go too far in laying things out for you. Like the bird flu news reel shown before the film shown out in the gardens. I don’t think small children needed to see all the gruesome details of how the flu hits the birds, effects the birds and kills the birds, or how they are disposed of when dead. It’s not something I was thrilled for Amelia to be exposed to, but for the most part she was playing with friends and didn’t see all the horror I did. I would like to ease her into certain aspects of the awful side of life. I don’t feel the need to totally protect her like a Siddhartha was behind his palace walls. But I would like the chance to help guide her into the idea of life not being all imagination and wonderful. And yes, I know that those choices won’t always be mine to make. And yes, I know that more often than not I will be having to explain things overheard or told or exposed to before she’s emotionally ready.
Wendy's Tale this Side of Neverland 