Supposedly Good Parenting Advice I Don’t Follow

BE CONSISTENT.

While I fully embrace the idea of consistency (of schedule, of rules, of rituals…) as a comfort to little ones, I also think it can make us unwittingly model for our children how to be stubborn. And who wants to mother a toddler who refuses to budge or a kid who gets stuck or teenager who always wants “their way”? I learned this one from another mom: sometimes it's ok to cave. It’s ok to say "You know what? I changed my mind." It will get us out of some tough spots and it will show our kids how to let go and be flexible. I love when my kids are mid-tantrum and then say, “I changed my mind."

PRESENT A UNITED FRONT.

It's a blessing to have a co-parent who can tell you when you've gone too far. Sometimes they're wrong and sometimes they're right, but we are all bad parents from time to time. Why is it so important that my husband and I agree on everything? I don’t mean that you should confuse your little one, but it’s good to show them how two people can peacefully resolve a conflict. Knowing that people can disagree and still love one another is a revelation to kids who are picking their friends based on who wears pigtails just like they do. But if my husband says no dessert, and I think my daughter has eaten well all day and a bite of chocolate is a small indulgence, is not a big deal. You can disagree, Out loud. In front of the kids. If you can do it in a way that teaches them something—save the ugly, everything-you-do-is-just-wrong fights for alone time.  When my we give different answers to the kids, we just say something like, “Daddy and I disagree, so we’ll have to talk about it and figure it out and let you know.” Teaching your kid how to fight nicely is a good thing. 

DON'T INTERVENE UNLESS THERE'S BLOOD.

I understand that siblings—and friends—need to work things out on their own. But how will they know how to do that unless we show them? No human is born knowing the best way to solve a disagreement. Two-year-olds, or even six-year olds, are still learning the skills they need to happily navigate the world. And we are here to teach them. So, sure, sometimes it’s ok to hang back and see if kids can figure out how to solve a problem on their own, but if we wait until things get out of hand before stepping in, we aren’t teaching, we’re disciplining.

SPANKING ISN'T A BIG DEAL, AND EVERYONE DOES IT. 

No. Just no. I have never met a parent who spanks their kid who wasn’t spanked when they were a kid. No one who wasn’t spanked thinks, “You know what my parent should have done? Hit me to get me to listen.” That’s one reason it’s clear to me it’s an unproductive, wrong-headed way to parent. And I really don’t understand that people who spank seem to think that it’s ok to do it to kids who are toddlers, but would never ever think it’s ok to hit a teenager. How could it possibly be more proper to hit a small child? Riddle me that. I know parenting little kids can be crazy-making hard, but physical violence doesn’t solve anything and will never be a good way to parent. If you feel headed in that direction, do whatever you can (read, google, ask friends or family) to get some more tools for your parenting toolbox.

 IT'S OK TO YELL. (OR: YELLING IS AS BAD AS HITTING.)

This one is so grey, which is probably why most parents either think that’s it’s totally fine or totally wrong. When I feel myself starting to yell, there’s are questions I try to answer for myself first—How much of this is about me and how much is about them? Am I having a bad day? Have I dealt with this bad behavior better another time? Could I have done something differently an hour before things came to this? There’s a big gray territory between verbal abuse and occasional slips. But when the occasions come too often, see above about the parenting toolbox.

TIME-OUTS ARE A GOOD WAY TO DEAL WITH BAD BEHAVIOR.  

This is a very common way for parents to deal with those “All-Stop” moments (as my favorite preschool guru would call it). When a kid is hitting or biting or throwing a tantrum or venturing into that zone, the idea that setting them apart from everyone else, fixes nearly nothing. It is embarrassing and not instructional, even if it sometimes seems like the only option. I like to think that giving myself a time-out, so I can cool down or think straight, works better. I like the idea of having a time-in instead. Yes, you should first make sure the kid who has just been bitten is ok, but then it’s time to talk it out with the biter. Just because it is a cry for attention, doesn’t mean it’s wrong to give them attention. When kids behave in an out-of-control way, they need something. From you. Figure out why.

IN THE BEGINNING, YOU'LL NEVER SHOWER (AND THIS I OK.)

Please shower. Not because you stink or haven’t been able to wash your hair for a week. Shower even if your baby is crying—just force yourself to do it. You know those morning shower epiphanies? It’s no coincidence that when you take a step back from whatever you’re all wrapped up doing and can breathe your own air, you have your clearest thoughts. I once heard that the biggest source of stress is feeling indispensible. As a mom, it’s so easy to get stuck thinking that no one can do for your baby what you do. Maybe it’s true, but even then, don’t let yourself be the only one who can watch the baby. Put the baby somewhere safe, even if that's a bouncy seat just outside the tub. Let your husband do things wrong. Let your mother have some grandchild time alone. The five or ten minutes you gift yourself with in the form of a good old shower, will make you a better mom when you return. Even if they have to cry. Also you're not going crazy if you hear phantom baby crying in the shower. I can't explain why, but I do know that lots of other moms hear it too. 

In Defense of Getting Less Sleep

Last week, my parents gave me the most amazing gift. They took my kids for three days and three nights. It’s the most time I’ve spent without kids since becoming a mom. Unlike our summer trip to the beach, this time at home alone was a real vacation.

Given how sleep-deprived parenting is, what surprised me most about what I did while they were away was that I didn’t get any extra sleep. What I did was better (and don’t get me wrong, I love to sleep). I used every waking moment exactly as I wanted and I enjoyed every last drop of time to myself.

Because, even more than sleep, what’s really exhausting about parenting little kids is never being alone.

And the less time I have to myself during the day, the later I stay up at night. It’s like I need to steal from those night hours a little of what I miss during the day. It's like all the parts of me I needed to get through those busy days, the parts I gave to everyone else or that were scattered to the wind along the way, I need to wait until they float back into my body and I can take at least one breath as a whole person. I need to feel like a real person again before I can agree to shut my brain off and sleep. I need to be who I am without anyone else around.

If I crash off to sleep before coming back to myself, I’m dizzy the whole next day.

Because each day I drift apart again... Arms and hips to my son, who needs to be held all the time… Ears and eyes to my daughter, who needs to be seen and heard all the time… My feet and legs and every bit of my heart so I walk toward my husband instead of away when he walks through the door, so we remember at least to say hello… And my hair, my face, my armpits, not sure where they disappear to but clearly there are days when they do not belong to me.

And that’s just a regular, plain old day.

It’s hard to pin down exactly why the days are so hard. In any given minute, the what-needs-to-be-done is mostly mundane, mostly not overwhelming, mostly easy-to-do stuff. And then time ticks on, minute piling upon minute, each minute assigned to something, to someone else. If I take a breath, it’s only to remember which of the things I’m not doing need to be done already.

In parenting, 90% or more of the time is easy enough, relaxed enough, manageable enough. And then there’s the other 5 or 10% that’s so unbelievably hard that it leaves traces of its hardness on the rest of the day. When I can let go of that small amount of hard stuff when it’s over, the rest of the time is so much easier. I can’t always do that.

It’s actually something I learned in labor. If you can let go of the pain of the contraction when it dissipates, you’re in a much better place when the next one comes along. If you can’t, that next contraction will be much harder. If you can’t allow it to ebb and flow like a wave, it will pull you under.

Days with kids are like that too. Little kids are kind of like crazy people with ups and downs that can give you whiplash. I find that I hang on too their bad moods—crying or yelling or whining—a lot longer than they do. If I could learn to let go as fast as they do, there would be a lot more happy in my days. For me, it’s hard to let go without a little time to myself. It’s hard to get back to neutral.

The hardest thing about having little kids is that it's constant, no breaks, no breaths, no brain space. Every day—no way out but through.

The feelings of obligation--to be there all the time, to be there completely, to be perfect—are intense. Sometimes I feel like I’m constantly bracing for the next disaster. When there is calm, it always has the air of the calm before a storm.

At the end of those days, when everyone is finally asleep, I need a little time to not-sleep. I need to be alone, lights low, doing something stupid and slow. It may look like reading or watching tv or social-networking, but really it’s breathing my own breaths and letting go of everything.

I may be a little more exhausted the next day with the sleep I lose during those late nights, but what I gain is more valuable: a little piece of sanity to hold onto through another long day spent not-alone.

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