The Tiger Mother in Me

Amy Chua, author of Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother, made headlines last week while promoting her style of parenting with an iron fist. Kudos to her for bringing attention to parenting issues, right or wrong.  Kudos to her for her marketing genius.  She'll sell more books than legos has blocks. My only hope is that parents don't see this as a "how to" guide, rather, they use it to generate their own ideas on what they will and will not do. 

All this attention got me thinking.  Was I a Tiger Mother?  Hardly. I was more like Crouching Kitty Hidden Puppy. You boys wanna turn the living room into a tent city? The sheets are in the closet. Looking to tie up your brother in preparation for a Houdini escape?  Here's some more rope. Don't wanna do your homework?  Frankly I don't blame you.  But I'll sit with you and keep you company if it helps.

When the boys were little, we were told they would grow to be at least 6'3". When I realized what that meant, I panicked for a moment. How was I going to raise these boys when I would have to stand on a chair just to see eye-to-eye? What if I sent them to their rooms and they decided to kill me instead? 
That's when we decided to focus on raising boys who were socially and emotionally competant, who were comfortable with who they were, and who would use their talents to contribute to society. 

My claws came out, don't get me wrong.  I think I even roared a few times.  But I didn't do so when when they were being themselves, I did it when they appeared to give up being themselves.  Now, at 6'5 and 6'3 respectively, Dan and Nick seem pretty comfortable in their skin, and, from what I know, have never contemplated assassination.

So far so good.