Each generation has new parenting advice. My grandmother put my dad in a dark room when he was teething, in order to help with his fever. My mom put us to sleep on our stomachs or sides, never on our back. Our generation puts our babies to sleep on their backs in order to prevent SIDS.
While it’s expected that each generation has some new child-rearing tools (car seats, bouncy chairs, the Diaper Genie,) changing actual parenting technique gets tricky. Several obstacles stand in the way:
“I (a) didn’t get breastfed, (b) didn’t use a car seat, (c) toilet trained early, (d) all of the above, and I turned out fine.”
Yes you did, and fine you are. But if you can make things just a little better for the next generation, you will. If you can prevent a few more deaths in accidents by using a car seat properly, or improve your infant’s feeling of connectedness, not to mention immune system, by breastfeeding, won’t you?
One of the great insecurities of parenting is admiting our own
shortcomings. Expressing anger frightens me. I’m not good at it. I have pledged to help Carter learn appropriate, assertive means of communicating his feelings without guilt. In doing so, I will no doubt have to confront my own uneasiness and fear about anger. I will have to trust that relationships can survive disagreement, even if in my heart of hearts, I have a hard time believing it.
“Mom (a) spanked me, (b) didn’t use time outs, (c) fed me solids when I was two months old], (d) all of the above, and she’s a good mom, therefore, I should follow the same parenting route. After all, to do differently is to reject her mothering technique.”
Obstacle number two has been harder for me. I love my parents very much, and I’m thrilled to have them as a part of Carter’s life. I don’t doubt that my sister and I have been blessed with parents who truly love us.I am also very sensitive to anything that might offend their own parenting sensibilities (see the paragraph on anger above.)
One of the more difficult moments as we prepared for Carter’s arrival was regarding a crib for the nursery. Together with my dad and step-mom, we had picked out and ordered a beautiful crib, complete with a drawer underneath. However, as we awaited its arrival, I began to doubt whether we would use a crib. The more I read about co-sleeping, the less I even wanted a crib in the house. In talking it over with Kevin we reached the conclusion that we didn’t really need the crib.
Did I call up and cancel the order? No. I hemmed and hawed and hinted around, complaining about the furniture company, debating whether the crib would actually arrive, describing our satisfaction with a co-sleeper attached to our bed. I was afraid that by admitting that we didn’t want a crib, I was accusing my parents of not giving me the warmth and security offered by a family bed. What I’m realizing now is that by taking a new direction, I am exercizing the gifts given to me by parents who care.
From my mom, the gift of trusting my instinct. Early on, Mom emphasized to me that learning to be still and listen to the small voice, rather than the popular crowds, would help me find the right answers. Although I am familiar with loads of research on child development, most of our child-rearing practices come from the heart, from doing what feels like the most right thing to do.
From my dad, the gift of questioning. He taught me not to blindly accept what I’m told, no matter who is doing the telling. Through actively engaging me in questioning my assumptions, he taught me to think, hard, and for myself. Kevin and I approach parenting in the same way, not accepting a particular parenting “tool” just because the pediatrician’s office, or the neighbor’s teacher, or my great-grandmother said it’s a good idea.
“All these kids today are lacking discipline and morals. Maybe a return to good old fashion values and public caning would whip those kids into shape.”
I hear complaints from those around me who are in the teaching profession. They say kids today are rude, indifferent and selfish. I don’t know anyone who promotes public canings, except for the freak who wrote into the local paper, but I do hear calls for stricter rules, increased discipline.
Perhaps we need more discipline. Maybe parents, too taxed from trying to work all day and parent all night are hesitant to set effective limits out of fear of not being liked as much as substitute caregivers. Maybe it’s just a case of “keeping up with the Jones’s” where one kid gets to stay out later, and it wouldn’t be fair to have the only kid on the block not allowed to egg the teacher’s house, so why not say yes? Maybe.
But, maybe, children don’t need more rules. Maybe they need to be heard. Perhaps we’ve been spending so much time making children fit our needs that we haven’t met theirs, and the only way they can let us know, the only way they get our attention, is with deliberate inattentiveness to our needs.
How do we determine what makes a “good kid?” Is a high school girl who leaves for boarding school without a complaint mature and independent, or is she disconnected from the web of security that is supposed to be her family? Is a baby who sleeps through the night without a peep a good baby, or has he given up hope that the people upon whom he depends for comfort and survival will come?
The bottom line is there are as many different parenting styles as there are different babies. Some children will need stricter limits in order to keep them safe. Others will need encouragement to try new things. What worked for me might not work for my kids. What works for Carter may not work for his younger sibling, Buckaroo.
When Carter (hopefully) has children of his own, I hope to accept his different parenting techniques with grace and love. We are not teaching him how to parent the next generation, we are teaching him how to have an authentic connection with his family, how to love, how to have friends, how to think and how to have fun. The best parents can hope for is not that our children mimick our parenting styles, but that they put the gifts we have given them to good use.
I hope I have.
