Things You Forgot to Teach Your Children

Exactly!  Mine will chat about all that is going on in his life when I call him, but he rarely thinks to call me.  Unless, like you say, he needs something.  And even that doesn’t happen anymore since we now live in two different states.  When we were both in California, we met for lunch every other week and it was so nice.  I would get to hear what they had been doing and any future plans they had.  When I moved to Oregon, they were in Idaho and since my son and fiancé both love fly fishing, they were in Oregon to fish quite often and we had talked about them staying with me at my new house after I moved.  But just as my California house sold, they decided to move back to California.  

On one hand, I know he is happy and doing well, which is what we as parents are trying to raise them to be.  Independent, able to make their own way in life, etc.  But a call once in a while to tell me things would be so welcome.  It kills me when he will say something like, oh, did I tell you, and then say something huge that has happened.  And this is always when I have called him.  He doesn’t mind sharing things, but he just no longer thinks to share any big news with me until I call and ask.

I guess that saying about a son is your son until he takes a wife, a daughter is your daughter all of your life is true.  I know that my sisters and I always kept in contact with my mother.  Sometimes not daily, but at least every other day.  She was the main hub of the family and would always update me on things going on with my siblings and other extended family.  And we called each other.  I just feel weird always having to be the one to call or text and ask my son if he has anything to share.  Ugh.  Boys.

Reading all of theses answers, I think I know where I went wrong with my son. Because I was a single mother, deciding to divorce my ex while I was still pregnant with my son, I tended to teach him everything. He was pretty much always there and always curious so I would explain things and include him most of the time. And because I wanted him to develop his own personality, I started letting him have some control in his life very early. For example, when he started preschool, I would lay out two different outfits on the bed that were complete and appropriate for the weather and he would decide which one he wanted to wear.

I also did a great deal of sewing back then, making the majority of his clothes. I would take him to the fabric store with me and he would walk through the aisles feeling the fabrics and choosing which ones he wanted for his shorts or pjs, etc. He even had me get him Sherpa to make him a “warm” pillowcase and a silky nylon to double up to make a little “cold” blanket. He could not find a nylon that he wanted for his blanket and knowing that I had plenty of fabric paints at home, he chose white and we took it out in the front yard and he created a splatter pattern of his favorite colors. He definitely had strong preferences. His father was so dependent on me for so many things that I didn’t want to create a clone of that to burden his future spouse so I really tried to teach him everything that I thought he would need. When he moved in with friends after graduating high school, he was the only one that knew how to cook, do his own laundry, and properly load a dishwasher and clean the apartment. He would tell me how shocked he was that his best friend had never washed a kitchen floor or run a vacuum. Granted, his family were rich and had a live-in maid.

And after raising him like that, boy did I end up with some stubborn teen years! And I really had to step back and let him make his own choices for the most part, even when I knew his choice was going to fail. But after failing at something a few times he asked me if I knew that whatever he had chosen was going to fail. I admitted that I did. He then asked me to let him make his own decisions UNLESS I knew that whatever he was doing was definitely going to fail. So I would just try listening to his idea and then just clearing my throat when he was heading down a wrong path. He would stop, think, and then suggest something else, watching my face to see my reaction. It was stressful, but we made it through.

He was really well coordinated at any sport and easily brought home A’s in all of his classes. The only thing that I can remember that he never seemed to master well was writing in cursive. And he would get upset at me when I wrote a note to him in cursive. There was one time that he wanted me to write and sign a contract between us for something. I wish I had kept it or could remember why he wanted it written down in contract form. I mean, who would enforce it? But he insisted. Maybe because his dad broke so many promises to him? Anyway, I wrote out this requested contract and signed it, drawing a line for him to sign on too He refused to sign it because it was written in cursive! He called it ‘secret writing’ when he was little and wasn’t going to sign it because I could have added something in there. My handwriting was not that bad! And I have no idea where he was exposed to a legal contract in the first place. Certainly not at our house. I had to rewrite it using printing. That little stinker read every word before he would sign it. I thought I was raising a little lawyer.

My dad got such a laugh over this when I told them about it. He was proud of his grandson for insisting on a contract. And he swore he never taught him about legally binding contracts. It would have had to come from a school friend or his dad, I guess. Unless they taught contract law in elementary school! He was a very smart kid and in several GATE classes, but he just balked at writing cursive. To this day, he prints everything. And I know he was in school being taught this before schools quit having cursive writing as a requirement. I recently saw that California schools were once again requiring cursive instruction in elementary school as of 2024.

So, maybe I did too good of a job at teaching him how to be independent in life and that is why he doesn’t call very often?

I am almost 60 years old and I have issues spontaneously knowing what it left and right and often say the wrong one.   I am left handed and have realized that a lot of my life when I need to define something as left and right I pretend to write to determine which hand is which.  It is bad enough that it has become a joke with friends that when we are driving and I need to tell them to go left or right I do two hand/two finger pointing that flight attendants use (when point out the emergency exits) instead of just saying it because I so often use the wrong one.  😄

My sister is 63 and has always looked at her hands to determine which is left or right. She'll either look for her wedding band or make an L with her fingers and the correct one (from her point of view) is of course the left hand.

My middle nephew is 19 and doesn't know how to drive a car or ride a bike. The oldest drives and rides a bike and the youngest one rides a bike and is itching to get his driver's permit this year.

The middle one REALLY needs to learn to drive because he works and always requires a ride there and back. Hopefully, he will get on that this year.

As for things kids have never learned:

Please, please teach them to use a ruler. Evidently they didn't spend much time on that in elementary school because every time we need to use a ruler in art I'm pulling my hair out. Trying to get kids to make a 3 inch grid is exhausting.

They also don't know how to use a paintbrush, scissors, or a sponge. I'm not kidding. I literally have to teach those skills.