If I have learned anything in my 18 short years of parenting, it is that I have no idea what I am doing. And so, when I recently came across an article titled “Parents: You’re Doing it All Wrong,” well, I guess I was relieved. I am not alone in my failure.
This guy, Leonard Sax, wrote a book called The Collapse of Parenting, and in his best seller, he outlines exactly how we are messing up. I Googled Mr. Sax. Because I need to know if he is a father, if he has any children of his own. And, if he does, I wonder if he is doing it all wrong too. Or if it is just the rest of us.
I can find no mention of a Sax family. Either Leonard is hiding those darling offspring or he figures the best way to do it right is to not do it at all. I don’t know.
I love parenting books. And I might like this one, too. I simply can’t get past the title. I mean after all our hard work, Mr. Sax, honestly? The Collapse? But, hey, I’ve been told more than once by my own sons that I haven’t a clue, maybe Mr. Sax has got a point.
So, in review, here are the highlights of my parental screw ups:
- I listened to Dr. Ferber, that other doctor we all believed back then. I let my first baby cry and cry and cry, waiting for him to learn to put himself to sleep. He didn’t. Luckily, common sense intervened.
- I didn’t make them finish their broccoli. Well, sometimes I did, but mostly, no. Instead, I rationalized that if I denied them broccoli, someday they might crave it.
- I have used colorful language to every son and about every son, more than once. It has given me a feeling of great satisfaction. I have no plan to quit.
- One time, I told my 10 year old that if that fifth grade bully didn’t leave him alone, I would take matters into my own hands. I described how I would find that bully alone and punch him on the arm until he screamed Hurtz Donut. My son reasoned with me. The bully remained unharmed.
- I have let at least one son be tardy for school because we were watching a Star Wars movie until late at night and he didn’t have time to do his homework.
- When their dad travels, sometimes the boys and I have ice cream for dinner. And for dessert, too.
- Even when they make their own beds, I re-make them. To be sure they are just right.
- None of my sons knows how to use the washing machine. And also, they think cooking their own dinner is warming up Bagel Bites in the toaster oven.
- I more-than-helped my oldest son write his college essay. I was extremely proud of the result.
- Once, when my youngest son complained of a belly ache and didn’t want to go to school, I accused him of faking it. Until he projectile vomited all over the grocery store. I didn’t clean it up, either.
- I have had evil thoughts about every coach who has not recognized my son’s raw athletic talent and played him in the number one spot.
- If I am reading a really good book, I have no idea what is going on in the rest of the house. I suspect it is mostly video games.
- Sometimes I participate in their wrestling matches. Which is probably weird for a middle aged mother of teenaged sons. I have yet to pin one of them, regardless of how dirty I fight.
- I read many parenting books and attend many parenting lectures. But I am a slow learner and rarely follow through on the very helpful tips.
- I tell my sons I have no idea what I am doing. Often. More than once, I have completely changed my stance on an issue because of a better argument made by a boy less than half my age.
And so, Mr. Leonard Sax, I guess I could be doing it all wrong. But at least I’m having fun. Most of the time. And I hope that if there is a loud and messy clan of Sax sons or daughters, you enjoy raising them as much as I enjoy raising mine. Regardless of how you are doing it, I’m sure your intentions are all right.
I wouldn’t change a thing. Except maybe the broccoli eating.