We all want our children to be happy. It’s right up there after healthy. Above making perfect grades or buckets of money or having several fancy letters added at the end their names, it’s giving our kids the necessary tools to find genuine happiness and well-being that is important. It’s Job One for most parents. We want to help them build the foundation for fulfilled living.
Over the weekend, I read this great opinion piece in the NYTimes by psych professor and author Adam Grant on “Raising a Moral Child,” and how, for parents, caring and compassion take priority over success and accomplishments.
“We’re much more concerned about our children becoming kind, compassionate and helpful. Surveys reveal that in the United States, parents from European, Asian, Hispanic and African ethnic groups all place far greater importance on caring than achievement. These patterns hold around the world: When people in 50 countries were asked to report their guiding principles in life, the value that mattered most was not achievement, but caring.”
I like that Grant doesn’t sugarcoat the next section. He flat-out says that teaching “caring” isn’t a cakewalk. But he takes us through a few studies that show how praise may be the key to helping your kids absorb the “caring” lesson.
“Praising [the children in the study]‘s character helped them internalize it as part of their identities. The children learned who they were from observing their own actions: I am a helpful person. … When our actions become a reflection of our character, we lean more heavily toward the moral and generous choices. Over time it can become part of us.”
But Grant’s piece also addresses the other side of good behavior—when a child does something “wrong” or unkind—and highlights the important distinction between guilt and shame, because each has very different consequences.
There was a lot that I liked here (obvi. See: all the quotes above), but it’s what Grant closed the piece with that earned him the MMM Gold Star (<—super valuable; trust me!). It’s so basic, but so true: Actions speak louder than words. He cites an experiment where children learned generosity and caring not by listening to what a role models said, but by observing what the adult in the situation did. It’s a challenge sometimes, doing the “moral” or good thing, but those young eyes are on us, friends. And they are clocking all of it.
Let me know your thoughts on the NYTimes piece. Anything that didn’t quite hit the mark for you? Always want to hear your two cents. Leave a comment below.
There are many things about parenting in this country that make me say, “Come on, America! Do better.” There’s the cost of college, the shameful state of maternity leave compared to other countries (this infographic shows that pitiful picture), and let’s not even get into the pressure cooker that is Having it All While Leaning In and Thriving at Mommy Wars — or whatever the new motherhood work/life debate is this week.
Now we can add one more thing to the list: the soaring, often prohibitive costs of child care. A new report found that “the annual cost of day care for an infant exceeds the average cost of in-state tuition and fees at public colleges in 31 states.”
That’s day care for the babies. Costing more than college tuition. Come on, America! What the hell? There’s got to be a better way.
When I joined Team Mama five years ago, I met many newbie mothers who opted out of working because, when they added it up, financially it simply wasn’t worth it. These women were essentially working to pay for child care. It was cheaper to stay home and be the child care. Then there were other moms who just kept their juggle struggle going — piecing together day care options (hello, Grandma!), trying to make it work and make at least a little bit of sense for their families.
A friend of my sister’s, expecting her first child, works a very good job at a large company. However, they cost of the on-site day care is so high, this 30-year-old mama-to-be is seriously considering not returning to her gig after mat leave. She’s stressing about what to do about child care and the baby is not even born yet.
I feel incredibly fortunate to be able to work from home as a writer and journalist. I have a relatively flexible schedule, and am home when my kid arrives from pre-school. But that pre-school isn’t exactly pennies-a-day, and I have my own juggling act when it comes to office hours, household management (fancy talk for house chores and duties), and cramming in eight things into an hour.
Yes. There are no easy wins in this parenthood game. Stress and guilt and tough choices seem to come built-in. But I can’t believe that this is our only recourse as working parents: paying through the nose to have someone take good care of kids while we’re earning a living.
What about you? How did you figure out the child care puzzle? Leave a comment below. Always like to hear your take.
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The strength of an encouraging word: After having our patience stretched to the limit waiting at the local pharmacy for earache medicine, The Youngster asked if he could have a wind-up toy. The crappy, plastic thing had held his attention for the last 10 minutes of our long wait. And I — tired and annoyed with the notorious slowpoke pharmacist — conceded. But when we got the cashier at the front, the toy rang up for nearly six bucks.
Hell no. We were not doing that.
I told my son that it was too expensive and we were not getting the toy. Of course, tears.
“Hon, we talked about this already: You won’t get something every time we go to a store. That’s just not going to happen.’
More long tears, and the saddest sad-baby face you’ll every want to see. I held my ground, despite all the stares from other customers.
We started to walk towards the door when an older lady approached me.
“Excuse me,” she said, reaching out to touch my shoulder. “I don’t mean to pry, but I just want to commend you on being a good mother — a strong one. When my kids were little, I remember having a moment like that. My son was making quite the scene, and all the other well-to-do mothers were staring at me and shaking their heads. It made me feel like I was the meanest mom for telling my child, ‘No, we can’t afford that today.’ So I want applaud you; you’re doing a great job with him. This is life, and sometimes he will hear ‘no,’ and he’ll be perfectly fine.”
My mouth sailed open. All that trickled out was, “Thank you. I really … thank you.” She smiled. I smiled. And we went our respective ways.
The kid was still crying — although no longer bawling whhyyyyyyy – when we got to the car. He calmed himself down to sniffles and staccato breathing as we turned on to our nearby street. And by the time we got in the house, took off our shoes and settled in, he was, as that older mom said, perfectly fine.
He went off to build a mini LEGO truck (which serves tea, I was soon informed) and I hit Twitter for some decompress time. That’s when I read my hilarious bloggy friend Bunmi Laditan‘s HuffPost piece and nearly hurt my neck nodding. The post, “I’m Done Making My Kid’s Childhood Magical,” is so spot-on, and confronts the pressure that too many mothers feel to make their children’s lives extraordinary and downright dreamy by creating elaborate crafts and planning endless phenomenal activities and experiences. Of course, all of this magical living is documented on Instagram, Facebook and — the grandest showcase – Pinterest for anyone to consume, covet, and use as further unassailable proof that: I’m doing this parenting thing wrong. Just look at what THAT mother pulled off!
It’s when Bunmi made this superb point that I practically fist-bumped the air:
“A childhood without Pinterest crafts can be magical. A childhood without a single vacation can be magical. The magic we speak of and so desperately want our children to taste isn’t of our creation, and therefore is not ours to dole out as we please. It is discovered in quiet moments by a brook or under the slide at the park, and in the innocent laughter of a life just beginning.”
Yes, and YESSSSSS!
There’s nothing wrong with spending time with your kids creating fun and having little adventures. Listen, last month I had a blast making a mess with my kid painting a foam ball to look like Jupiter. I had the paints already stashed in my own creative box, and the ball cost me a dollar. Fun and done.
But it’s the desperate push to have everything be so otherworldly and perfect that is the complete waste of time and energy — almost ironically so. Here you are tearing off your shirt trying to have the most magical, wonderful, unforgettable craft, vacation or experience, and in all that frenzy, you might just miss the true beauty of the moment: time spent together living a life.
There’s also nothing wrong with kids being bored; having to play with the same ol’ toys again; or waking up to a regular, simple day without bells or glitter or shooting stars. They can handle it. After all, you did, right?
One of the things I liked most about the neighborhood we moved to over the summer was all the kids. Just outside playing ball, riding bikes, skipping along in the sun, just happy and working things out by themselves. No hovering parents.
It took me back to my own childhood in Montreal.
We ran the streets all summer long, and it was glorious. We played games like soccer-baseball (yes, that’s what we called kickball in Canada. Leave us.) and TV tag. Some of the girls got together to practice gymnastics in the grassy patch of the crescent in front of my house. We would ride our bikes to the park, roll our skateboards off makeshift ramps, head out on discovery rides, hit up the dépanneur (translation: corner store/bodega) for a slushie or popsicle, and play neighborhood hide-and-go-seek — big kids included — in the dark night.
It all added up to big fun, every single day. The only time we saw our respective parents was when they called us in for dinner or for the night. My dad had a special whistle for us. I can duplicate it right now, that’s how fresh it is in my mind.
I’m hoping my son will have a similar experience here in this CTLife. (I’ve been told that there is a huge hide-and-go-seek game, but it’s just one specific summer night. A start.) But, being honest, I wonder how fine I’ll be keeping some distance, not constantly checking on him when he’s a tad older and able to play on his own with buddies. Will I hovercraft it? Or will I pretend to be all free-range and easy, but inside I’m more like:
I was thinking about this again while reading “The Overprotected Kid” in The Atlantic last week. This great feature story by Hanna Rosin looks at how modern parents’ preoccupation with safety has robbed kids of adventure, discovery, risk-taking and developing independence.
“It’s hard to absorb how much childhood norms have shifted in just one generation. Actions that would have been considered paranoid in the ’70s—walking third-graders to school, forbidding your kid to play ball in the street, going down the slide with your child in your lap—are now routine. In fact, they are the markers of good, responsible parenting.
“Ask any [parent] to chronicle a typical week in their child’s life and they will likely mention school, homework, after-school classes, organized playdates, sports teams coached by a fellow parent, and very little free, unsupervised time. Failure to supervise has become, in fact, synonymous with failure to parent.”
I know I’ve walked the line between being reasonable and calm to having absolutely no chill about my kid’s overall safety when he’s at play. When he was younger, toddling around cramped playgrounds in Brooklyn, sometimes I was the “they’re kids; they’ll figure it out” mom relaxing in the background on the green bench. Other times I was the “why won’t that mom sitting on the green bench do something?!” hyped-up mama. And as my son’s gotten older, my worries have changed. Things like him falling off the swing aren’t at the top of my Things to Lose Sleep Over list.
We read these deep-dive pieces on modern parenthood and — when it makes sense — we try to see how we might adjust our own parenting strategies with the new information we’ve gleaned. But I often wonder if we’re worrying too much about everything. And, trust me, the internet’s not here to allay our freak-outs either.
In the last week I’ve read about everything from the threat of Facebook’s facial recognition and corporate data mining to our young babies, to how giving your kid a weird name makes her more likely to have impulse control — which is, you should know by now, “even more important than I.Q. in predicting socioeconomic success, marital stability, and even staying out of prison.” Financial success and staying out of prison, y’all. (It must be noted that the author of this book, Parentology – a father’s memoir propped up by scientific studies — named his daughter E. and his son Yo Xing Heyno Augustus Eisner Alexander Weiser Knuckles. Yes, alll of the names. Sir. You’re doing the most.)
That’s why I downright cackled when I read this incredible new parenting study in The New Yorker. They had me from the opening line:
“A recent study has shown that if American parents read one more long-form think piece about parenting they will go fucking ape shit.”
Then I feel upon this gem of a post from the blog Wide Lawns and Narrow Minds: “If 70s Moms Had Blogs.” All the Tang-drinking, spanking and cigarette-smoking had me chuckling. Exactly what I needed to calm the hell down and just do live this Mom Life.
What say you: Do you think our need to keep a close watch on our kids at play is curbing their independence? Also, does not supervising mean you’re not parenting? Is there a happy medium? Always like to hear your take. Leave a comment below or head over to MMM‘s Facebook page and chop it up with us there.