[peaceful parenting] A Critical Look at Five Reasons

I tend to avoid HuffPo most days as it really is just another fluff site thinly disguising itself as news.  But several FB friends were sharing a particular article on parenting fails, so I clicked.  And I soon regretted it.  

The article is titled 5 Reasons Modern-Day Parenting Is in Crisis, According to a British Nanny.  It might as well have been titled 5 Reasons to Be a D*ck to Children, According to a Judgmental Child-minder.  I’ll explain.

The author’s first reason today’s parents are lousy: some of us actually value our children’s preferences.  She writes:

“I have what I think of as "the sippy cup test," wherein I will observe a parent getting her toddler a cup of milk in the morning. If the child says, "I want the pink sippy cup, not the blue!" yet the mum has already poured the milk into the blue sippy cup, I watch carefully to see how the parent reacts. More often than not, the mum's face whitens and she rushes to get the preferred sippy cup before the child has a tantrum. Fail! What are you afraid of, mum? Who is in charge here? Let her have a tantrum, and remove yourself so you don't have to hear it. But for goodness' sake, don't make extra work for yourself just to please her -- and even more importantly, think about the lesson it teaches if you give her what she wants because she's thrown a fit.”  (emphasis mine)

She is trying to make the point that modern parents are afraid of upsetting their kids, she instead comes off sounding like an insensitive shrew.  I’m not afraid of extra work, nor is there any doubt who is the parent and who the child in my relationship with my son.  But here’s the deal, if I always opt to go the easy route to avoid extra work, I’m showing my son that his opinions, his preferences, are unimportant.  

In fact, we had a similar struggle this morning.  Temperatures are warming up in my town.  Our house lacks air conditioning, our television puts of a LOT of heat.  Declan woke and immediately wanted to play on the Xbox.  I didn’t want to deal with the extra heat.  Instead of just telling him to suck it up, and letting him tantrum, we talked.  I made sure that his preferences were acknowledged.  I explained my position, he his.  And we compromised.  We kept the TV off during the hottest part of the day, turned it on when it cooled off.  Sure, he got upset a few times.  But we’re establishing a supportive relationship—not one where I rule and he obeys, period.  

Ironically, after alluding that modern children are somehow incapability of compromise, the author has this to say in Reason #2:

“Children are capable of much more than parents typically expect from them, whether it's in the form of proper manners, respect for elders, chores, generosity or self-control. You don't think a child can sit through dinner at a restaurant? Rubbish. You don't think a child can clear the table without being asked? Rubbish again! The only reason they don't behave is because you haven't shown them how and you haven't expected it! It's that simple. Raise the bar and your child shall rise to the occasion.”

Wait… so my kid is somehow incapable of being reasoned with in Reason #1, but now they’re capable of it in Reason #2?  Now, I agree that kids are capable of quite a lot.  But I also recognize that my three year old has a less developed brain than I do.  (Quiet, Peanut Gallery!)  I do us both a disservice when I expect him to perform cognitively as well as I do.  

Additionally, there is the subtext to both of these Reasons that really bothers me: that the relationship between parent and child is a relationship where one party is in charge, and the other party is subservient.  Frankly, that is not the sort of relationship that I want from my kids.  I don’t want my children to blindly “obey” me, or anyone.  I want my children to listen, to think, to decide, and then act.  Not to just “do” without consideration beyond, “well, **authority figure** told me to do so.”  I recognize that I may be alone on this one, but I want our relationship to be one of mutual love and support.  Not blind adherence to a pecking order.

In Reason #3, the author actually makes some points that I agree with.  She claims that most folks are too afraid of backlash to assist in situations where a child has behaved in an inappropriate manner.  That today’s parents are so convinced that their kids are perfect that any stranger stepping in is unwelcome.  While it may be true that folks no longer swat at stranger’s kids, I would not go so far as to claim that the problem is mom and dad's deluded idea of the brilliance of their kids.  Rather, I think it's the fear of lawsuit for hitting a stranger's children.  Frankly, I'm glad of that.  Yes, I’ve been on the receiving end of glares from strangers, and I’ve also had folks kindly smile and give me a few reassuring words.  That’s a much better thing in my mind than the “good old days” when the neighbor felt it their duty to punish, and perhaps even spank my kids.

Do take this away from her Reason #3, though: “If a child is having a tantrum… observers should … be saying, "Hey, good work -- I know setting limits is hard.”  I agree.

Ready for Reason #4?  This one sounds good on the surface, were it not for the notion that again, children are not allowed to have a preference that is given value.  Here the author chides modern parents for using technology to soothe their kids.  Well, that advice is bang-on-trend with her established pattern of being a d*ck to kids.  Instead of acknowledging my child’s desire to entertain himself with a tablet, I’m again supposed to let him suck it up and get used to it.  She writes:

“Children must still learn patience. They must still learn to entertain themselves. They must still learn that not all food comes out steaming hot and ready in three minutes or less, and ideally they will also learn to help prepare it. Babies must learn to self-soothe instead of sitting in a vibrating chair each time they're fussy. Toddlers need to pick themselves up when they fall down instead of just raising their arms to mum and dad.“

Ugh.  She lost me at “self-soothe.”  Sounds way too much like the Cry It Out folks to my liking.  Need I point out some of the problems with Cry It Out?  Here’s a quote from an article from Psychology Today about it:

“With neuroscience, we can confirm what our ancestors took for granted---that letting babies get distressed is a practice that can damage children and their relational capacities in many ways for the long term. We know now that leaving babies to cry is a good way to make a less intelligent, less healthy but more anxious, uncooperative and alienated person who can pass the same or worse traits on to the next generation.”

Okay, back to criticizing Reason #3: Time for a confession.  When I’ve been in a situation where I’ve had to endure a wait, I’ve found some pretty neat shortcuts for myself.  I’ve pulled out a book to distract myself.  I’ve caught up on emails on my phone.  I’ve journaled.  But according to the author, allowing my kid to do the same thing is somehow a disservice?  It really doesn’t make sense to me.

We finish with Reason #5, a brilliant culmination of the underlying hostility to kids presented in most of the other reasons: Parents put their children's needs ahead of their own. 

Surprise!  Yes, yes, I do.  If I wasn’t prepared to put someone’s needs before mine, I wouldn’t have become a parent.  Parenting is hard.  It is.  Really.  Really hard, sometimes.  But it is also a choice—and I completely, wholeheartedly respect anyone who says, “no thanks,” to the idea of parenthood.  It isn’t selfish to chose not to have kids.  But it is pretty selfish to chose to be a parent, but then chose to put yourself always first. 

To her credit, the author begins this reason thusly: “Naturally, parents are wired to take care of their children first, and this is a good thing for evolution! I am an advocate of adhering to a schedule that suits your child's needs, and of practices like feeding and clothing your children first.”  But then she loses me when she continues with: “But parents today have taken it too far, completely subsuming their own needs and mental health for the sake of their children.”

Yes, I have actually fetched my son’s water bottle when he was perfectly capable of doing it himself.  But I’ve also done the same for my spouse, and he for me.  Sometimes we do things out of love and because we want to show our love than for convenience or ease.  

Now, the author here suggests some decent advice: 

“There is nothing wrong with not going to your child when she wants yet another glass of water at night. There's nothing wrong with that dad at the zoo saying, "Absolutely you can have something to drink, but you must wait until we pass the next drinking fountain." There is nothing wrong with using the word "No" on occasion, nothing wrong with asking your child to entertain herself for a few minutes because mummy would like to use the toilet in private or flick through a magazine for that matter.”

I agree.  But there is also nothing wrong when I get up from my comfortable seat to walk across the room to hand my son the water bottle that was slightly out of reach for my kid.  It helps to grow our supportive relationship, just as occasionally saying, “Yes, I’ll play as soon as I am finished,” helps to show that I value him, his preferences, but also my own.  It’s a subtle difference, but it’s there.

In short, the article isn’t terrible.  It isn’t.  Maybe I was overstating things in summarizing her article as 5 Ways to be a D*ck to Kids, but then you probably wouldn't have read this. ;)  The author's approach isn’t the way that I want to raise my kids, because I clearly value a supportive relationship over a domineering one.  There are moments in my parenting where my behavior will seemingly overlap the behavior of a parent who does value a “because I’m the mom, that’s why” relationship.  While the practice may look alike at times, the principles are different.  

How would I suggest that moms and dads improve their parenting?  Hmm, I don’t know that I could break it down into five bite-sized pieces of advice.  But some of what would say might look like this:

1. Decide what sort of relationship you want with your kids.  
2. Implement behaviors that support that relationship.
3. Value principles over arbitrary rules.
4. Be kind to one another.

Hey, look at that.  I guess I almost did break it down into five little nuggets!

On dress

Several weeks ago, a friend of mine vented to Facebook about an uncomfortable experience they had while dressed in vintage attire.  Apparently a couple of uncouth cads approached my friend and proceeded to berate her for "celebrating a terrible time in history."  After all, it was during the past that we had mass oppression, bigotry, racism, sexism, Nazism, and a whole slew of other offensive -isms.  These boorish boobs actually tried to shame her for her clothes.  I suspect the irony was totally lost on them.

Now, I have been dressing in vintage and vintage-styled clothing for many years.  Not once have I been chastised for it. (Perhaps being a big girl helps here.) It seems that most people recognize that an appreciation of the fashions, hairstyles, shoes, and art (music, films) of an era does not equate to accepting the entire culture without reservation.

For all we know, Margie here could be pointing
out key points of her Feminist Manifesto

Lest anyone doubt, let me take this time to put any questions to rest:  I am a feminist.  I am an open-minded thinker.  I am a supporter of equal rights.  I am an environmentalist.    And, yes, I dress like a woman of the past; a woman who may have struggled had she shared my views during her time.

While I may daydream about how wonderful it would be if folks returned to a few habits from the past, oppression is certainly not one of them!  (But while we’re on the subject, might I just suggest that we do make an effort to not look like we’re ready for Zumba class when we are going out to dinner?)  I wear what I do for the same reason that you do: I like how I look it them/they're comfortable/they're clean.  

My clothes are not a political statement. My hair isn’t meant to suggest that I want to return to an era of segregation, sexism, and oppression.  My home decor does not imply anything other than my taste in furniture is decidedly different from the average Ikea shopper.  If you want to know what I think about a particular subject, you'll get a much clearer answer by actually asking me versus just assuming based on the sort of frock I put on. ;)

a photo may say a thousand words: here are mine

I already know that some people may actually be a touch offended by some of my thoughts on this subject.  I am aware that I'm being a touch judge-y when it isn't, at ALL, my place to do so.

When I see photos of online acquaintances in which they are significantly heavier than when I last saw them, I cannot help but feel sad, (and a touch curious.)  ME, feeling sad that people, like myself!, have gained weight.  It's dumb.  It's judgmental.  It's none of my goddamn business.  But I start to wonder, "what happened?"  "Did they injure themselves?"  "Are they dealing with depression?"  "Did they just let themselves go?"  Again--none of my business.

In the event that I'm not alone.  In the event that even some of MY online friends and acquaintances are thinking, "HA! Irony of ironies!  What the f*ck happened to you, lardass?" here is my situation.

I have never been skinny.  Never.  Not a day.  But I'm glad of that fact, honestly.  Skinny doesn't necessarily mean "healthy" or even "pretty" in my world.  It, in my world, means thin to the point of boney protrusions.  It does not mean "unhealthy" by default, but it could.

Oh, no.  I have always been a bit soft around the edges.  But not until adulthood did I get actually fat.  That never stopped anyone from calling me fat when I was younger, though.  I was often picked on as a child, always for things well out of my control such as my last name, my height, and their warped perceptions of reality.

As an aside, I can recall a time--when I was at one of my smallest points in my adult life, of course--when complete strangers, a car full of them, took the time to roll down their windows and insult me for my "big ass."  I was a size 9, and all that I had done was have the gaul to be out in public.  How dare I?!  Yeah.  Not so good times.  Not the first time to be put down by strangers for my appearance.  Neither the last.

Aside from genetics, I can easily blame the lousy eating habits I picked up as a child for my size.  When I was able to have my own household, I made a conscious effort to learn good food habits.  I recognized a connection between what I ate and my overall health.  I noticed that the many folks in my family struggling with weight issues were also, often, the ones who ate poorly.  I decided that I did not want to be one of those people.  I became a pescatarian, abstaining from eating any pork, beef, chicken, lamb, et cetera.  I did eat the occasional fish or seafood.  Within a month of changing my diet, I lost fifteen pounds.

I wavered a little bit at that weight for several years.  I'd gain a pound or two, lose a pound or two.  I had a physically demanding job.  I was in pretty good shape without needing to focus on eating a certain way (other than my eventual vegetarian diet), nor needing to worry about exercise.  But that all changed when my career drastically changed.  I went from standing and moving for hours on end to sitting at a desk for eight hours a day.  My clothes began to feel snug.  Favorite pants that had always been flattering were suddenly unsightly for the roll of skin that bulged over the waist.  And then I started to see photos of myself.  Particularly, candid photos.  Did I REALLY look like that?  Was I REALLY that big?  It was too much.  I started saving my pennies and I signed up for Weight Watchers.

For the first time in my life, I was putting serious limits on how much I could eat.  I did nothing else.  I didn't exercise, I just altered my eating.  Foods in my pantry started carrying the words "low fat," or "fat free."  Diet soda replaced regular.  Subway became my favorite "quick-fix" meal.  The pounds melted away.

I can still recall feeling confused, and even doubting the experiences of some of my fellow Weight Watchers.  They complained of occasional struggles.  Surely, they couldn't have been following the program as well as I was.  It was so easy!  I could still have a donut every Friday morning and lose weight.  I could still eat dessert from time to time.  The weight just kept coming off.

I did eventually hit a plateau about five pounds from my goal.  After a few weeks of struggling, my WW leader suggested that re-evaluate my goal.  I was currently in the healthy weight range for my age and height.  Did I really want to be any lighter?  Would I be able to be happy eating even fewer calories every day?  I decided that I was already starting to feel a touch deprived, and revised my goal.  After a few weeks of maintenance, I was labeled a Lifetime Member.

(Ironically, in the weeks following my decision to revise my goal, the pounds started to come off again.)

So there I was--a Lifetime Member.  I was CURED, right?  No longer fat.  No longer heavy.  I was getting crazy compliments on my looks, on my weight loss.  I was often asked questions like, "what's your secret?" "How did you do it?" Of course, most of the folks that asked the question, really didn't like my answer.  My "fix" wasn't quick enough, wasn't easy enough, took too much time and too much work.  Years later, I'd agree.

I remained a Lifetimer for a couple of years.  I moved, and stopped going to meetings, but I was otherwise doing an okay job of maintaining my weight.  Then I really mucked up the works--I changed careers again.

Going back to school meant that I was grabbing food on the go.  I stopped measuring portions.  I stopped counting points.  I started gaining weight.  It was a slow gain, but within a couple of years, I was back to my pre-Weight Watchers weight, only this time I convinced myself that I looked okay.  Sure, I was heavy, but I was a good-looking heavy!  And while I told myself this lie, I still felt awful.  I felt broken.  I felt like I blew it.

From time to time, I would eat a little better.  Or, I'd say, "the heck with eating right, I'll just exercise this time."  While I might lose a few pounds, the loss was never lasting.  Additionally, every medical physical I'd have showed me to be crazy healthy chemically.  No diabetes, not even a hint.  No cholesterol trouble.  No heart disease.  I started to think that maybe I was just meant to be fat.

When I had been pregnant with my daughter, I was terrified about gaining weight after she was born.  I'd witnessed a few women go from being fit, beautiful ladies into being heavy, dowdy moms.  By jove, I was NOT going to let that happen.  So I didn't.  While I did gain a significant amount of weight during pregnancy, I lost it all postpartum thanks to a vigorous job and a fair amount of exercise.

When I became pregnant with my son, I knew that I was already starting off heavy.  As such, I kept tabs on my weight gain.  I knew that I needed to gain weight to have a healthy pregnancy, but I also was not about to go crazy-go-nuts and eat everything save New Jersey.  At each prenatal visit, my gains were right on track.  I gained exactly what I should have gained--even less than what I had gained when pregnant with my daughter!  I knew that the difference of 17+ years would affect my postpartum weight loss, but I was already feeling great knowing that I'd have less to lose to get back to pre-pregnancy weight.

Alas, it didn't quite work out that way.  I was on track for getting back into pre-pregnancy shape when I was hit with a devastating betrayal of trust.  The stress of that situation brought my weight loss to a halt, and brought with in a weight gain.  I was in agony.  I was trying SO. HARD. to lose weight, but was seeing the numbers go up and not down.  Soon I was recognizing that I didn't have all the answered.  Sure, I'd lost weight before.  Of course, I should know what to do to do it again.  But it wasn't working.  I decided that I needed help and I returned to Weight Watchers.

I've since learned why those other members in other meetings struggled, and it wasn't because they weren't on plan.  I've since learned that getting older means working harder for smaller gains.  I've since learned that I can do it--I AM doing it--and that I really do need the meetings.  I've also learned that the answer isn't replacing my pantry with "fat free" items or diet anything.  I've learned that I need to eat REAL food, like Michael Pollan says: not too much, and mostly plants.  I've also learned that I'm much better when I exercise.

While I've lost over twenty pounds, I'm still heavy now.  There may be some folks who, upon seeing recent photos of me, are thinking, "Damn, she's big.  She was so fit a few years ago."  Well, they're right.  But I also know that I'm working towards a real, and lasting change.  I know that I'm a product--a reflection--of all the struggles and stress I've had the last few years.

I write this because it helps ME to recognize that those folks who, like me, are heavier today than they were weeks/months/years ago are also a product of their travails.  And who am I to judge them?!  So, while I may feel sad, I need to recognize that they might not.  They, too, might be working towards a goal.  They, too, might be proud of their efforts.  And they, too, just might be heavy now--but have still done so much good for themselves.  Who am I to judge?

Do you struggle with image issues?

a product of my surroundings

There are times when the blank box for composing a blog entry is so intimidating.  Right now is one of those times.  While I do have a lot on my mind, my brain feels so cluttered and unorganized.  It must be the influence of my surroundings.

Almost everywhere I look I can see boxes.  Fully boxes, empty boxes, in-between boxes.  Worse would be the places where there are no boxes, for there is still so much left to pack.  The kitchen is largely untouched.  Not a thing from the bathroom has been packed.  It is certainly daunting.  We still seem to have so much left to do.  I should be thankful that our closing date was pushed back.

Yes, we are not closing this week rather next week.  One week from today, supposedly.  I am so looking forward to more space, a back yard, and a life not surrounded by much of my personal items boxed and stacked.

I am trying to take advantage of this time by purging items that are no longer needed.  We've made numerous trips already to donation centers in our area, but there is still more that could go.  I have at least five different ways to curl my hair; hot rollers, rag rollers, velcro rollers, hot sticks, curling irons (numerous).  I think it's time I downsize.  I have so many pairs of black heels I could shod a troupe of ladies.  I have three FULL boxes of vintage hats.  I think that it's time to let go.

My disjointed thoughts are washing over me again and I'm not sure what else should be said.  Perhaps it's best that I close this confusing, rambling entry and get back to work (as much as I can work with the very active toddler at my heels)...

an invitation

You're Invited!

What: A Pity Party for Lily

When: Right Now

When I was expecting my daughter, my friends were very happy to have me along--if only to be the designated driver.  I lapped up the attention, though, because I knew once I transitioned into motherhood my social calendar would diminish.  It did, of course, once Taylor was born.  Friends who called me every weekend to invite me out suddenly could not even be bothered to call to say, "hello."  It wasn't exactly unexpected, but it did help me to see which of my friends I could really count on.  Thankfully there were still a handful of folks who made a point of including me/visiting me.

When Brian and I learned that we were expecting Declan, I knew that--again--we'd have to curtail many of our social activities.  But I think that I'd forgotten how it feels to be sidelined while the rest of the world continues to party and continues to play.

--It's probably time that I disclose an important fact--I'm a lousy friend.  Hmmph, well, maybe not lousy, but I just do not know how to put it.  While I have the best of intentions, I just don't always know how to be friend.  I could lay the blame at the fact that growing up I often moved schools (or homes) and therefore never really learned how to grow and maintain a friendship.  I excelled at making friends, but I've struggled to know how to cultivate that new friendship into something lasting.  As such, I am never sure when to give a friend space, and when to catch up.  I struggle to determine if a phone call/message is well-timed and often err on the side of caution by deciding not to butt in.  Why would they want to hear from me?  Wouldn't they rather talk to someone more interesting/fun/personable?  I certainly do not want to be a pest.

It seems that one of the main consequences of my ignorance is that people--friends--see me as uninterested or disconnected.  Aloof.  The reality is that I often just do not know what to do.  But I digress.--

So here I am, watching the world continue to go by, only now it's probably worse thanks to our now-super-connected-social-media-addicted society.  Whereas before I only suspected that people were having a great time without me, now I KNOW that they are having a great time without me.  And I sit here struggling with how to handle it.  

I don't want to call folks and ask to be included because I was taught that inviting oneself is terribly rude.  Besides, if someone wanted my company, they would have asked me, right?  

Now, some might argue that this post is a passive-aggressive plea for inclusion.  And no matter how much I could protest such an assessment, I suppose that it is.  As I write this, I've been struggling with whether or not to even post.  I certainly do not want to appear passive-aggressive, but I also want to get this off my chest, though not to anyone in particular.  And, as stated before, I'd like to return to being a more prolific blogger.  So, why not start things off by making something of a confession and talking about my strange inner-monologues?  And isn't passive-aggressive pleas for attentions what blogging is all about!?  (Perhaps that's fodder for future post.)

On a more positive note, I was actually invited to too many activities this weekend.  I actually had to turn down one invitation because I had already committed to another!  While it certainly bummed me out to be missing out on one celebration, I did have a fabulous time at a party last night.  And I do have a very full weekend scheduled for next weekend, too.  So my belly-aching and b*tching is really dumb.  My friends DO want to spend time with--just not every waking moment.  (And who could blame them?)

The reality is that I do have plenty to do--sometimes a little too much, even.  So why I am still feeling blue about the events that I am missing?