Since moving to the UK almost a year ago I find I have slipped back into my British-ness. Like a swallow returning after the winter, like a duck to water, I have embraced the cultural foibles of this fabled isle. I have embraced apologizing profusely when someone bumps into me; I’ve mastered the art of communicating immense gratitude for someone just doing their job; I use the phrase ‘I’m terribly sorry but would you mind…’ when I actually mean, ‘now, listen here, you had better…’ and I’ve learned to express my disdain for a person by talking very loudly to my child: ‘Oh dear darling, can you still see with that lady in front of you, darling?’ My passive aggressive skills are impressive. Really.

 

But there is one thing I cannot get used to, one part of being British that I am simply useless at: parenting.

 

I literally do not know how to parent in this country.

 

My first whiff that something was amiss was when I took my one and a half year old to a mum’s and babies group and a little boy snatched a red Duplo block out of Saxon’s hand. Saxon wasn’t fussed so I figured, ‘fair game little guy’, but holy moly did that mother come striding across the room, remove said block from her son’s grasp and declare that they should share darling.

So here’s what I think about sharing between toddlers: they don’t want to.

Sharing comes with empathy, and no one-and-a half-year old has the slightest interest in anyone but themselves. Forcing a toddler to share does nothing other than make the parent feel good by making themselves believe that their kid has social etiquette. Except they don’t. Not yet. Which is why they scream in protest. The screaming is apparently part of the learning curve, not actually the child expressing frustration at a lesson he/she is simply not ready to grasp. Yes, our children need to learn to share eventually, our society depends on it. But there are other ways to do this: https://www.verywellfamily.com/forcing-your-kid-to-share-4126426

 

The second thing that happened was that Saxon fell down in the playground…and I didn’t rush over and make a fuss. What a terrible, unfeeling parent I must be. I certainly got glares. One mother even went over to him to dust him off. Seriously.

So here’s what I think about falling: it happens. A lot.

My approach to falling is no tears, no fuss. And guess what? My two year old can climb by himself, slide by himself, balance by himself, and yes, even pick himself up when he falls. When we over react at the slightest fall or knock we teach our toddlers that it’s a big deal, which makes them cry more easily, which makes us react more. Vicious circle. If one of my boys falls and cries, you bet I’m there. If there’s blood involved I’m there to mop it up and kiss it better. But fuss over every fall? No.

 

It doesn’t stop there either. I have discovered countless transgressions in my parenting standards.

My kids are often barefoot. Especially when they were younger.

My only answer to ‘I’m bored’ is ‘good.’

I firmly believe that my dislike of mud should never interfere with the unbounded joy it elicits in my kids. Dirt is good.

Temporary hardship creates grit. In The Netherlands we biked in all weather. One morning was -6 Celsius, our gears froze. My kids had to suck it up and cope. It is immensely character building.

My umbilical snap is at least four times longer than average. What’s an umbilical snap? It’s the distance (in meters) you’ll let your kid wander from your side. And yes, I made it up.

 

The interplay between parenting culture and parenting abroad

 

So after the rude awakening that I am hopelessly inept at conforming to the parenting culture in the UK I started to think about the interplay between parenting style or culture and parenting abroad in general. There are challenges inherent to raising a family outside of your ‘home’ culture, we all face them on a daily basis. But for me, the really taxing part is specifically the cultural differences in parenting. I feel like I’m always doing something ‘wrong’ in the eyes of others. And that is exhausting.

 

It doesn’t change the way I parent, but it’s an added emotional burden that quite frankly I could do without.

 

As globally mobile families we talk a lot about cultural sensitivity, learning important cultural cues, parenting third culture kids, but what about Third Culture Parenting? Can we talk about the challenges faced by parents negotiating the impossible waters of parenting culture in their host countries?

 

Facing parenting challenges in your host country

 

In my own case I have three children, each born in a different country and there have definitely been challenges in each. I’m sure some of these will ring a bell in your own lives.

 

In Istanbul I was publicly admonished on a daily basis for dressing my child inappropriately. The thing is, a snow-suit in 20 degree (68 Fahrenheit) weather? I’m sorry, I just can’t. Allowing my son to drink water with ice would draw stunned looks from waiters and disapproving patrons alike. Yet when I showed that I was uncomfortable with strangers kissing my baby on his face, or picking him up out of his pram while he was asleep, suddenly I’m the bad mama?

 

South Africa, I’ll admit was pretty fantastic for my more laissez-faire parenting style. Bare feet are normal. In fact, children are encouraged to take their shoes off in the classroom and definitely whilst climbing in the playground. The perfect weekend is swimming all day with sandwiches for dinner, eaten on the grass whilst still dripping wet, or maybe pizza in front of the TV. If I had to pinpoint one sticking point in SA it was the overarching presence of religion in schools. When my son was four he asked how dinosaurs evolved, to which his teacher responded: Jesus made the dinosaurs. Yeah, that went down a treat.

 

Parenting in The Netherlands was like coming home to me. Children are encouraged to be independent. They cycle to school on their own when they are eight or nine. Twelve year olds go around in giggling bicycle gangs, stopping off for ice cream here, hanging out in a park there, with all the freedom in the world. What a wonder. You will not see a helicopter parent in sight. Kids are left to sort things out for themselves, from falling over, to playground politics. But the consequence of this Lord of the Flies existence is that Dutch kids are hectic. And what I mean by that is when expat kids see the Dutchies roll in, they evacuate. I’m a live and let live sort, but one time my five-year-old Noah was shoved hard to the ground and a bucket of sand dumped over his head. The mother saw everything happen but did nothing to control her feral child. When I marched over to tell her she and her child were bang out of order, she merely glanced over to her boy standing guiltily next to a spluttering, shell-shocked Noah and said with a dismissive shrug, ‘they seem to have figured it out for themselves.’ That’s laissez-too-freaking-far in my book.

 

And the UK, well, it’s a misfit of gargantuan proportions.

So here is a question: when you have been faced with cultural differences in your everyday life abroad, how have you dealt with them?

I think we should always try to be respectful of our host country’s culture, and that often means behaving accordingly. I worked hard to stifle my instinct to rant and rave when I lived in Asia, because the culture of saving face is so strong. Smile no matter what. It’s hard. But I can’t adopt a way of parenting that flies in the face of everything that comes naturally to me. And why should I have to? But where there is no cultural conformity there will always be discomfort.

 

Valid concern vs Cultural belief

 

After mulling it over, I believe the crux of the matter comes down to this: it’s really difficult to distinguish between a valid concern and a cultural belief. So, for example the lady who says, ‘I’ve just seen broken glass over there, better put his shoes on: valid concern. The lady who says, ‘only poor children go around with bare feet’: cultural belief.

And I classify the molly coddling of children here in the UK as a cultural belief. Parents routinely mistake their cultural beliefs for valid concern. Go into any playground here and you’ll hear parents/caregivers telling their children to ‘be careful’ or ‘mind your head’ or ‘don’t fall darling!’ It’s a culture of chronic risk aversion. Go to that same playground in The Netherlands and you’ll find parents chatting on the fringes whilst their kids get on with it. No hovering. No pre-emptive injury warnings (which invariably end up being self fulfilling prophesies), risk aversion is low.

Setting sensible boundaries for your children at all ages: valid concern. Being so over-protective that you hinder your child’s natural ability to be adventurous and learn for themselves: cultural belief. This is a great article on why ‘be careful’ and other senseless warnings do not actually help your child: https://www.backwoodsmama.com/2018/02/stop-telling-kids-be-careful-and-what-to-say-instead.html

 

Generation Wuss

 

Britain is facing a mental health crisis in schools. 78% of teachers say they have dealt with a child with anxiety or depression. https://www.theguardian.com/society/2018/jun/23/schoolchildren-facing-mental-help-epidemic

Whilst in The Netherlands, children are routinely rated as being the happiest in the world. https://www.theguardian.com/world/2018/jun/17/why-dutch-bring-up-worlds-happiest-teenagers

And yes we can compare school systems, talk about how success is defined differently which has a direct impact on anxiety levels, and even about how society is more equal in The Netherlands, but in my life in the UK, right now, I am witnessing a culture of paranoia that is severely limiting our children. In my mind a clear line can be drawn from the over-protectiveness in the toddler stage (alongside forced social behaviours such as sharing), to risk aversion later in childhood combined with a fear of failure (we never let our kids fail!), culminating in what American Psycho author Bret Easton Ellis calls ‘Generation Wuss’, a generation so molly coddled they struggle to cope with the rigors of everyday life.

 

My two year old has just started nursery a few mornings a week, and soon they will have a sports day. ‘Great!’ I said, ‘Saxon loves running!’ ‘Oh no,’ his teacher replied, ‘we don’t let them run on their own, they must race holding a teachers hand.’

 

So there it is. I literally cannot parent in this country. My parenting ethos simply does not fit. And yes, of course I turn a blind eye or smile and do it my own way anyway, but when you have an irate parent glaring at you expecting you to act in a way that goes against everything you believe in, the pressure is huge.

 

I don’t have all the answers. Maybe, dear reader, you do. But as I raise my brood around the world and witness first hand the different ways of informing our children, I see what a huge part culture plays in parenting. In fact I think culture may be the biggest driving force behind our parenting styles. The problem with culture is that it’s so deeply ingrained in us that we never question or scrutinize it. It never occurs to us that we should. But I think we should always question everything, isn’t that the gift of living our global lives?

 

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