Where did you get your values?

So today’s post is about being my son’s mother. As some of you know, I have a blue-haired ten year old boy named Ethan. He’s an amazing kid. He’s bright, communicative, kind, and adventurous. Today when we finished eating, he offered to take my plate to the kitchen, and asked if I wanted a cup of tea. He loves star trek and lego and nerf guns. He loves to skateboard, build things and sing. He’s wonderous. He does his chores without being yelled at (most of the time at least). He is a really special kid. I love him.

I wish I could take the credit, by being an amazing, patient parent. But I can’t. He came pre-wired to be awesome. And he’s been surrounded by a huge team of humans who care about him.

I got married when I was 5 months pregnant, at 19 years old. I was a very young mother and very naive. I tell people the truth: he was planned, yes, but not planned well. If my pre-frontal cortex had been fully developed, I would probably have known that there are reasons to wait until you’re a little older. But I didn’t know, and so I did what I did.

When I was 21 or 22 I separated from my husband. Ethan was 2 when we split up. From the beginning we decided to share our son, as close to 50/50 as we could reasonably do. It has almost always been 4 nights with me, 3 nights with dad.

Ethan’s Dad met a woman he loves, and they moved in together before Ethan was 3. The interesting thing is that the values in the homes were different at moms house and at dad’s house. Different religious beliefs, eating habits, and value systems began to exist between the households.

I think most children naturally adopt the values of their parents without having to evaluate them. Mom and dad are vegetarians, and the young child eats vegetarian. If Mom and Dad go to church every Sunday, and pray before bed, the little ones do it too.

So when Ethan came home with new and different religious beliefs than my own, I needed to figure out how I was going to handle it. He was, with all his four year old innocence and wisdom, trying to tell me why I should believe the same thing as him. It was a strange conversation that he attempted more than once.

I wanted to give him the freedom to believe whatever he wanted, because who is to say that what I believe is the truth? I have beliefs, but I know that my beliefs are based on the experiences I have had. Other people have other experiences, and believe different things. I can’t say that I am any more right than they are. So I wanted my son to decide for himself. When he asked me about my beliefs I was honest. I said “Some people believe that God created the earth, and some people believe that evolution and other things happened.” (This is very simplified because really, I was talking to a 4 year old).

He had some pretty convincing arguments, actually. But I tried my best not to negate his beliefs with my own. I admit there was some part of myself that was threatened by the idea of my child having different beliefs than me, but I figured that was better than forcing him into mine, or alienating him with my desire for him to share my beliefs. So he was given the opportunity to choose which religious beliefs fit his own. He wasn’t just handed down beliefs, he adopted his own.

His dad’s wife is a Vegan, and I eat meat. So Ethan has had the fortune of choosing, and experiencing different styles of eating. He’s a really open minded kid when it comes to food, too. When he was about 4 years old (there was a lot of discovery that year!) I had made him some chicken to eat. He was sitting at the table picking at his lunch, and this conversation followed:

Ethan: Mom, is this a chicken?

Me: ...yes, it’s a chicken.

Ethan: Where are its eyes?

Me: He doesn’t have his eyes anymore.

Ethan: (sounding worried) Where did they go?

Me: (getting squeamish) Umm. The farmer cut his whole head off and his eyes were on his head.

Ethan: Is it dead?

Me: (feeling mortified) Yes.

Ethan: Can I eat something else please?

Me: Yes!

I felt that this was quite the conversation for a 4 year old. I was entirely shocked and mortified and yet curious about his thought process, and somewhere inside of me I was laughing at the whole thing. But, that day, he was a vegetarian. He eats meat now, but often only at mom’s house. And I think its working for him. It will be interesting to see what he will eat when he’s old enough to buy his own groceries.

But I like to think that experiences like this, how he has had more than just one set of values to choose from, has made him who he is. Because we all respected his voice and his ability to choose what works for him, he is who he is. And I am lucky and thankful that he’s had such a rich life of experiences. He is a very lucky boy and I am truly lucky to be his mom.

Have you ever questioned or decided your beliefs, or have you always accepted the values that were handed to you by your parents? Do your values work for you? When did you truly adopt your values? How do you think that would have been different if you had or had not been encouraged to choose?