Because it really is personal…

You know what? Here’s what I think. Life does NOT have to be one long, relentless learning experience! I’m thinking of the whole parenting issue right now. I know people online who are soon to have babies, and have expressed concern at ‘getting it right’ where being a parent is concerned. I get that, I really do. I wanted to get it right, and for the most part my kids seem to have turned out ok. None of them are in jail, no one has gotten a girl knocked up (hush. I don’t want to hear it.), and they all seem to be relatively well balanced individuals.

I didn’t follow all the rules. We didn’t own the biggest, most excessively safe vehicle available. I did not feed them organic baby food, and so on. I didn’t research which pre-school would get them into Harvard or MIT. I didn’t even buy clothes from Gymboree. I used an umbrella stroller, even when the Escalade of strollers was taking up the entire back end of my Parenting Magazine Approved Safety Rated Minivan.

I didn’t make every single experience they had into a Learning Adventure. I’m going to repeat that. I think it’s important.

I didn’t make every single experience they had into a Learning Adventure.

I didn’t make every single experience they had into a Learning Adventure.

WHy on Earth do the Experts and the Other mommies and the places like AlphaBitc..er…AlphaMom make out like you have to do everything right? I am sure, now I am going to hear from Alpha Mom with protestations that it’s not like that…sorry hon, you call yourself Alpha Mom you are by default declaring your superiority and that other mothers must follow your example and be Just Like You. I’ve read the site, I’ve barfed in my mouth, just a little, and I’ve moved on.

Anyway, when you’re playing with little Madison Taylor Androgenously Named Child, let them get dirty. Let them make mudpies without rushing in with the antiseptic hand cleaner gel that smells like bubblegum. Give them a spoon and the jar of peanut butter (naturally, I mean this ONLY if they don’t have peanut allergies…geez). Let them even *gasp* watch Wheel of Fortune! It’ll help with their alphabet skills and they won’t even know it!

And please, for the love of everything sacred, don’t wipe down the playground equipment with antiseptic wipes. You’ll be dooming them to a lifetime of being teased by other, grubbier kids, and compromising their little immune system to boot. Kids need germs to get strong. You can’t wrap your child in a hermetically sealed bubble and expect the rest of the world to be understanding.

And one more thing. I think those little seat cushion covers things that I see children in at the grocery store- you, the buggy cover- those are cute, but do you really think precious Hannah-Grace’s li’l bum’s gonna get damaged sitting on the plastic flap? Why does she need a cupholder and intellectually stimulating entertainment when she’s at the grocery store? Let her pick out a box off the shelf to play with and look at! Let her dainty tuchus get a callous or two! It won’t hurt her to learn to sit still so the flap doesn’t pinch. It’s called consequences of your actions.

Back to learning experiences. I didn’t let my kids help me cook when they were toddlers. I didn’t give them a cheap plastic knife and a cup of grapes to cut up, so they’d feel included. No. If I was (and still do, today) cooking, I was serious about it and if they stepped a foot in the kitchen I grew fangs and roared at them. Cooking was (still is) MINE MINE MINE. They had their Sesame Street and their playtime outside where I was bored stiff but watched anyway because fresh air is good. Cooking in the kitchen is MY THING GO AWAY. Once they became interesting, and self-aware- around the age of 8, then I let them help cook. Tots need to know their place in the pecking order, and in my house it is AT THE BOTTOM.

Which is another thing…who rules the house? The parent or the child? To some extent, the child does. A child has routines, and everyone elses routine follows the child, because of what can happen if a small child deviates from said routine. It’s misery for everyone. However, to make up for the child’s command of routine, I believe the parent should have command of territory, such as my rule of the kitchen. What works for each family is different, you hav to figure out how to do what fits your lifestyle the best. For us, the kids pretty much had run of the house, with the exception of the kitchen if I was working in it, and the Master Bedroom. Children are not, never have been, and never will be, allowed in our bedroom. If there’s disease and infirmity, then I’ll sleep in the child’s bedroom. If there’s a nightmare, he’ll get a 10 minute cuddle and then be told to go back to sleep. No one, but NO ONE sleeps in our bed but my husband and me. Now that the boys are older, the teaching has held, because no matter what the circumstance (”Mom, I’ve accidentally amputated 3 fingers and I am bleeding profusely on the floor.”), they know not to cross the threshold without invitation. (”Ok you can come in but don’t you DARE bleed on the rug!”). The master bedroom is a sacred place. I am glad that they are a little uncomfortable going in there. It allows me the freedom to own some things I’d be uncomfortable with them finding. I also know that if they do find them, they’d find the experience so discombobulating they’d never return. Kids need to know that parents require privacy, too.

This whole diatribe went in unexpected directions, but there it is. It all boils down to who’s the boss. Who’s in charge around here? You know that Kid Nation show? I’ve only seen clips, but the premise appalls me. yes, kids are smart enough to make good decisions, but they are also mercenary little sh*t’s who don’t know A from Adam. They need discipline, structure, and someone who’s in charge, who isn’t them. They need fun with no educational strings attached, now and then. They need grubby clothes and inchworms and consequences learned through experience, not unrelenting lectures.

The happiest I’ve ever seen my kids…it was Spring in 1993. They were 5,3 and 2. We had a litter of kittens, and they took the kittens into the backyard and put them in the wagon, dragging them all over that back yard. I have a picture of it. The 2 older boys are wearing dirty t-shirts and worn out shorts. The youngest was wearing a baseball shirt inherited from an older brother. It came below his knees like a dress, and he had a ring of dirt around his mouth, a counterpoint to his silky blonde curls. The 3 year old was wearing an old policeman’s hat we’d bought at a salvage store. They just spent hours in that back yard, with those silly kittens, mooching around, making piles of rocks and knocking them down, playing. Just simply…playing. No agenda, no Deep Learning Experience, no lectures from me about the physics of rock piles. They were so very happy.

Now, 15 years later, are my kids perfect? Not at all. They backmouth me sometimes (and then regret it, I make sure of that.). They rack up 1000 text messages when their plan only allows 250 (they pay for them), and they aren’t great at saving money. I am sure there are things I should have done differently, and please understand that I do not hold myself up as some parenting authority. I’m just trying to say I think folks should relax, lighten up a little, and let your kids be kids, dirt, worms and all. Lectures are good, I love a righteous rant occasionally…just…save them for the big stuff.