{"id":2421,"date":"2013-10-21T16:29:48","date_gmt":"2013-10-21T20:29:48","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/barefootandpregnant\/?p=2421"},"modified":"2015-09-19T15:54:55","modified_gmt":"2015-09-19T19:54:55","slug":"parenting-youre-doing-it-wrong","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/barefootandpregnant\/2013\/10\/parenting-youre-doing-it-wrong.html","title":{"rendered":"Parenting: You’re Doing It Wrong"},"content":{"rendered":"\n<\/head>

\"\"<\/a>
There\u2019s almost probably time for both, right?<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/p>

I got my first taste of parenting anxiety the day after Sienna was born. As the Ogre was opening the car-seat box and trying to figure out how it worked (planners-ahead, we are not) the discharge nurse brought me an enormous stack of paperwork to read, sign, initial, take-home, etc. It was chock-full of what seemed to be VITAL information about this terrifyingly tiny creature and how not to break her. After a half-hour, the nurse bustled in and chirped, \u201cdone?!?\u201d I looked up in a panic, my mouth opening and closing soundlessly. I was on the third page.<\/p>\n

With all the finesse of a used-car salesman, the nurse shooed away my concern with one arm and rapidly flipped through pages, having me sign here and initial there, leaving no time to read or think or breathe. Then she grabbed the pertinent papers, dropped the rest into my diaper bag, and presented me with my daughter, whom the nurse had been swaddling and burping with her other arm the whole time, like a freaking wizard.<\/p>\n

\u201cHere she iiiiiii-iiiis!\u201d the nurse trilled. I briefly wondered if cartoon birds braided her hair each morning as she crooned \u201call ready to go home with Mommy and Daaaaaaaddy!\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked around instinctively, searching for the calm and capable parents the nurse must be referring to. The Ogre stepped forward to take her, grimacing subtly at my momentary paralysis, and I realized that she was talking about us, and that now we had to TAKE THE BABY HOME AND KEEP HER WITH US FOREVER. FOREVER AND EVER. UNTIL WE DIED<\/em>.<\/p>\n

I panicked. \u201cB-but I didn\u2019t even read all the papers!\u201d I called shrilly after Nurse Poppins. \u201cHow will I know what to do if I don\u2019t read the papers? I don\u2019t think you should let me take her home. I\u2019m not qualified for this kind of thing. Shouldn\u2019t you send someone with us who knows how to take care of a baby? You didn\u2019t even summarize what was in those papers you took!\u201d<\/p>\n

Nurse Poppins was long gone by then, and when the sound of my own voice died out I looked around and saw that the Ogre had deftly strapped Sienna into the carseat, gathered up all our things, and was reaching out his hand to help me into the waiting wheelchair.<\/p>\n

\u201cThank God one of us knows what we\u2019re doing,\u201d I muttered as the Ogre placed the baby in my arms and wheeled us down to the car.<\/p>\n

My approach to parenting hasn\u2019t changed all that much since then. I often wonder exactly what I think I\u2019m doing, parenting four whole people. I went through a phase where I kind of gave up discipline entirely, because I realized that I didn\u2019t know how to do it. So I just\u2026didn\u2019t. When I started trying to figure it out, my first move was to ask the Ogre what we should do. When he failed to provide me with an instruction manual and a supplemental annotated bibliography, I started reading books. When the books all gave practical, helpful, but infuriatingly general <\/em>advice and followed up with admonitions to \u201cconsider the child and the relationship to determine what is appropriate for your family,\u201d I started to get genuinely frustrated. None of these people get what I need,\u00a0<\/em>I seethed. I need a google search engine for parenting. I need to be able to input <\/em>\u201cwhat do I do to stop behavior X\u201d and get a definite, foolproof answer. Or at the very least, a list of possible choices in descending order of relevance. <\/em><\/p>\n

In the meantime, my kids were getting older and patterns of behavior were becoming entrenched. I finally had to face the fact that I was wasting precious time on a fruitless search for the Holy Grail of parenting methods.<\/p>\n

I\u2019ve been spending a lot of time lately thinking about my kids. About who they are, what they need, why they act the way they do. I\u2019ve been thinking about my relationships with each of them, their relationships with each other, and our family dynamic. I\u2019ve formed all kinds of intricate and plausible theories, and potential ways to address things. Then this weekend, I sat down with one of them and had a long talk, subtly asking her questions that I assumed would confirm my theories.<\/p>\n

It turns out, I was almost entirely wrong about basically everything. I didn\u2019t have any doubts about why, either, since she straight-up told me. I never listen to my kids.<\/p>\n

It sucks when you realize that you\u2019ve been running your family like your name begins with Kim. High expectations, little mercy, no questions asked. Holding the kids to standards that I don\u2019t even set for myself. How many times a day do I say to them, \u201cwhen I ask you to do something, do it right then\u201d and then turn around and give them an endless stream of \u201cin just a minute\u201ds when they ask me for something? How many times have I told them if they say they\u2019re going to do something, they have to do it, while expecting them to understand that the same doesn\u2019t apply to me because things come up? <\/em><\/p>\n

I don\u2019t feel qualified to do \u201cparenting\u201d because I\u2019ve been trying to learn it as if it were a skill-set, something quantifiable, with rules and textbooks and definite answers. I don\u2019t feel qualified to do it because I\u2019ve never focused my energy on learning to be<\/em> a parent.<\/p>\n

The best parents I know aren\u2019t the best parents because they have the best rules and the best system of discipline. They\u2019re the best parents I know because they\u2019re the best people I know. Their kids develop discipline by watching their parents exercise self-discipline, so the kids understand discipline as something to be worked at instead of a system of rules and punishments. These parents know how to help their children because they know their children. They don\u2019t make guesses based on behavioral patterns, they just sit down and say, \u201cwhat\u2019s going on?\u201d<\/p>\n

Years later, I asked the Ogre why he was always so confident during those early days with Sienna. He told me that he wasn\u2019t confident because he instinctively knew what to do, just as he isn\u2019t confident now because he has all the right answers. He\u2019s confident because he is her father. No one else will or can figure out how to care for her the way he will, because she is his daughter.<\/p>\n

Being a parent isn\u2019t a verb, but a noun. I\u2019m frustrated that it has taken me this many years to make such a simple distinction. I\u2019m frustrated that it has taken me so many years to really get<\/em> that the best way to get my kids to change a bad habit is to stop modeling it as an acceptable behavior. Most of all, though, I\u2019m frustrated because of the years I\u2019ve lost. I\u2019ve been trying so hard to do parenting right that I have rarely stopped lecturing and correcting long enough to just be a parent.<\/p>\n

\u201cParent\u201d was rarely used as a verb until the 20th century. Cliff Price of the New Oxford Review<\/em> has this to say about the evolution of parent from a noun to a verb:<\/p>\n

\u2018Parent\u2019 is being used as a vague replacement for \u2018child-rearing,\u2019 or \u2018raise\u2019 or \u2018nurture\u2019 or \u2018bring up\u2019 children. The verb \u2018parent\u2019 implies the things done by a parent,\u2019 without specifying what those things are or specifying the identify of the person doing them. Further, it negates the meaning of parent: a man or woman in an undeniable relationship with a child by reason of a biological fact.<\/p>\n

(Read a little more here, but not the whole thing<\/a>)<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

I know there was a strong reaction against his emphasis on biology, but to my mind the key phrase is \u201cundeniable relationship.\u201d \u201cParenting\u201d does not imply a relationship. It implies a philosophy (attachment parenting, free-range parenting, authoritarian parenting) and a skill set that can be learned if one will only read the right books and follow the right methods. It\u2019s become such a pervasive mentality that I\u2019ve spent nearly eight years brushing aside advice to \u201cconsider my relationship with my children\u201d as tangential. I\u2019ve genuinely thought that was a lot of sentimental clap-trap; what matters isn\u2019t our relationship, it\u2019s the rules and how I enforce them, or the gluten, or the co-sleeping, or the crib-training, or this, or that, or anything but this kid breaking down in tears in the living room because all she wants is to have a relationship with her mother.<\/p>\n

I still underestimate the power of language to shape my understanding of reality. I hate to be hyperbolic (<\u2014sarcasm, obviously\u2026I love to be hyperbolic), but this simple revelation about the proper part of speech of a word will (hopefully) change our lives. The relief is almost exquisite. I\u2019m no longer forced to find the right way to do it. I can just be. I can be me, Calah, wife, mother, blogger, sister, daughter, Scorpions fan and Doctor Who lover. I can just forget trust-building exercises or role-playing games or pediatric psychoanalysis or gluten free bread-making and read my oldest A Wrinkle in Time.<\/em> I\u2019ve been wanting to read that book to her for years, but all the experts said she\u2019s still too young and I should read her some boring crap like Little House in the Big Woods<\/em> instead. Never mind the fact that she hates those books and that making her read them has been like administering castor oil via the written word. Never mind the fact that I\u2019m apparently supposed to tailor choices for reading aloud to the median age of my children, which has left us stuck in an endless loop of Where the Wild Things Are<\/em> and I Want My Hat Back.<\/em><\/p>\n

You know what I say now? Screw that shizzle! I love A Wrinkle in Time,<\/em> and I want to read it out loud to Sienna. So I\u2019m going to read it out loud to Sienna even if the little kids don\u2019t listen. In fact, I\u2019m going to read it out loud and allow<\/em> them to not listen. And if Sienna doesn\u2019t like the book after a while, I won\u2019t insist that we finish it. I\u2019ll try something new. Or not. Maybe we\u2019ll study art instead of reading, and I\u2019ll let her paint before bedtime. Maybe I\u2019ll just ask her what she wants to do, and then let her do it, even if it involves (*gulp*) glitter and glue.<\/p>\n

(She\u2019ll have to do it outside, though. Let\u2019s not get too crazy.)<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n<\/body><\/html>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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