To Love is to Listen

I have a confession to make – I’m a terrible listener. I like learning about other people, but I enjoy talking about myself even more. When something comes to mind, I say it far too often, even if someone else is in the middle of talking about something else entirely. (This post describes me perfectly.) My filter has improved over the years, but it’s something I’ve literally worked on for decades and I’m only 31 years old. So among my many fears of becoming a parent, not being a good enough listener was way up there.

Recently, I was reminded of how far I have to go upon reading some co-workers’ evaluations of me. They did say a lot of good things, but it was very clear that I could do more to listen and consider other people’s perspectives. To me, the starkest sign was that I said that I try to genuinely listen to others, while my co-workers said I sometimes just pretend to listen. Unfortunately, both of them are true – even though I try to listen, I still fail at it too often.

While this has some implications for my career, it was even more of a wake-up call for my parenting. You can suck at listening and still be a good employee, but you can’t be a good parent. As Sprout communicates more and starts speaking, my listening skills are only going to increase in importance.

For one, listening well is one of the best ways I can respect my son. Our society undermines children’s perspectives and feelings, telling them that they should be this way because authority says so or this way because it’s trendy. Not listening to children or perhaps worse, pretending to listen and then steamrolling them shows kids that they aren’t valued. And when parents don’t respect kids, they don’t receive respect back. Plus, if kids aren’t respected at home, they try to find from other places, many of which aren’t healthy. In fact, three of my favorite parenting resources really focus on how good listening connects to respect. How to Talk So Kids Will Listen and Listen So Kids Will Talk has some phenomenal examples of ghonest active listening, Dr. Karp’s Happiest Toddler on the Block gives tips on how to listen when your kid is barely speaking, and this video talks about how listening is related to teaching the meaning of consent.

In addition to respecting my son, I want to be a role model for him. If he takes after his dad, he’ll already have a head start, but I still want to set a good example. As the consent video points out, if we wait until kids are teenagers to teach about consent, it’s too late. Consent is fundamentally about respecting other people’s preferences and boundaries, which we learn through good listening. Learning how to listen well is probably one of the best life skills I can pass on to Sprout.

Fortunately, becoming a mother has already set me down a path for improvement. The How to Listen book made me aware of a lot of tendencies I hadn’t even realized, like giving advice when people just want someone to listen. It also helped me realize that saying very little while actively showing that you’re paying attention can truly draw people out.

At the time, Sprout wasn’t communicating much beyond crying, so I practiced on our neighbors’ kids instead. Coming home from work, I ran into a couple of them coming back from the park. One of them started telling me extensively about his coin collection, declaring that he was going to invest in silver because “it was low and expected to climb.” At the same time, the other kid randomly proclaimed that “you can’t trust anyone.” When I asked, “Hmmm. Why do you say that?” he explained that someone he thought was cool called someone else gay and you shouldn’t do that. I tipped my hand a little by commenting, “But it’s okay for people to love whomever they want” and agreeing that it shouldn’t be used as a slur. In the less than 5 minutes I walked with them I learned so much about their lives by just listening and respecting what they had to say.

As Sprout still doesn’t have many vocabulary words, listening to him now involves carefully figuring out his needs by watching him. I can then vocalize what he wants to communicate but doesn’t have the language skills to do so. (This especially important considering our half-assed at best efforts at teaching him sign language.) Figuring out what he’s “saying” forces me to take his needs seriously, rather than brush them off as whining. It’s worked pretty well, calming him and helping him demonstrate more patience than I think he would otherwise.

My relationship with him has also helped lay the foundation for better listening skills by fundamentally changing how my brain works. One of the main reasons I’m such a bad listener is because I find it very hard to shut off my internal monologue. You shouldn’t think about what you’re going to say while someone else is talking, but my brain will be four paragraphs ahead if I let it. It takes a serious conscious effort for me to focus. Fortunately, this clarity of thought is something I find easier to achieve with Sprout than anyone else. Since I’ve returned to work, I’ve tried hard to make our time together on weekdays special without outside thoughts crowding it. As he had even less to say at the time, I learned to appreciate just watching him and enjoying his company. Now, I can sit on the lawn and watch him play in the grass far longer than I would have imagined before becoming a parent.

Parenting exposes your biggest strengths and weaknesses. As I face mine head-on with honesty, I find that the growth to become a better parent is making me a better wife, daughter, friend, co-worker and neighbor as well.

Are there any skills you’ve felt compelled to improve on as a parent?

Breastfeeding Week: Open Letter to Advocates Against Covers

I believe in being positive, especially as a parent, but sometimes I get frustrated. I get angry when people are being oppressed, when someone is reinforcing prejudicial societal patterns, or when people are putting others in unnecessary pain. Rather than making Chris listen to me rant (yet again), I’ll write an Open Letter addressing whatever is making me angry.

As you can imagine from this week’s topic, I’m a big supporter of breastfeeding. I truly believe that hospitals, the medical institution in general, and all of society should support breastfeeding moms far more than they do, starting with placing the baby skin-to-skin immediately to accepting women feeding children in public. (Mega props to the Pope for furthering this cause.) I managed to breastfeed my son for a full year and am only now just tapering off. But I do have a reoccurring issue with how some advocates frame the issue of breastfeeding in public. While I appreciate that they don’t want to be shamed for nursing without a cover, I feel hurt by the way they refer to the idea of mothers covering themselves up. Terms like “breastfeeding burqa”, implying that I’m denying my baby fresh air (even though that article is pretty funny), and phrases like “I would never put my baby under a blanket!” make me feel as if I’m not “doing it right” or letting down feminists by wearing a nursing cover. While I think they intend to make nursing a more accepted activity, by denigrating a tool that enables many women to breastfeed who wouldn’t otherwise, I think they could be driving mothers away instead.

Personally, there is no way I would ever be able to breastfeed after a couple of weeks if I didn’t have my nursing cover. I am an extremely modest person; just scheduling the posts this week gives me the shakes. So when I started nursing Sprout in public, I became hyper-aware that people would be thinking about my breasts, even if they couldn’t see them. And that totally freaked me out. I was so nervous that even with the cover, I tried to make myself as invisible as possible. I sat in the back of the church instead of our usual spot; I fed Sprout in the car at an outdoor mall instead of on one of the many benches. There is absolutely no way that I could have started feeding him in public if there was the chance anyone would see my bare boobs, nipple exposed or not. And as any nursing mom knows, you absolutely need to feed your baby in public. Bathrooms are not appropriate places to bring hungry babies. So if it wasn’t for my nursing cover, I would have breastfeed my baby for a drastically shorter period of time. I suspect I’m not the only one in this situation. Now, some advocates would say we should just get over our neuroses and throw off societies’ restrictions. But it’s damn hard enough being a new mom – why add more emotional and social burdens than necessary?

Beyond the modesty issue, I wonder if Sprout himself would be able to eat in public places without the cover. He’s been a very observant, engaged baby since the day he was born. As a result, he’s always been easily distracted while eating. His very first night, I struggled to get him to latch as Chris and I talked. A moment after Chris left the room, he latched on perfectly, his attention no longer split between eating and our conversation. Even if he wasn’t too distracted in public to latch on, he would constantly be breaking his hold, exposing more nipple than a wardrobe malfunction would. He still does this when Chris walks in the room while I’m nursing. Even if I wasn’t quite modest, that would be a whole lot of public nudity and unfortunate leakage.

Beyond my personal experience, assuming people have the social capital to nurse their babies in public without a cover is a privileged position. Women of color and poor women already have huge societal burdens put on them and shouldn’t need to feel even more judgment. People are more likely to feel like they can make disparaging comments to them than a white, middle to upper class woman. Lastly, the consequences of social approbation are likely to be more severe for people who have less power to push back. While a manager of a restaurant or pool may give a more privileged person a warning first, they may go straight to kicking out someone who society already undervalues. Plus, these groups are already less likely to breastfeed, so they should have access to anything that might help them do it.

In general, we need to support breastfeeding moms in whatever way they choose to breastfeed. Shaming women or denigrating blankets or covers only harms new mothers that are trying to do the best for their babies and themselves. There’s enough judgment out there – let’s stand in solidarity in a positive way.

Confessions of a Hipster Mom

I’m a hipster parent and I’m not afraid to say it. While I would have been loath to call myself one in the past, these days it’s hard to deny it.

The word hipster carries a lot of baggage; it’s somehow transformed into an antonym of itself. While it once meant someone who only liked things ironically, it’s somehow morphed into meaning someone who likes things a little too much and too sincerely. We’ve gone from unengaged Brooklynites who mock silly t-shirts by wearing them to hands-on politically active West Coasters who show their love for silly t-shirts by wearing them. (And still others just use it as short-hand for a person of the Millenial Generation.) While some of the outward signs of hipstersdom – like “quirky” old-fashioned names for your kids – hasn’t changed much, the fundamental attitude has. While I hated the old version that involved “punching down” by making fun of off-beat folks, I fully support embracing your own brand of weird.

So what led me to embrace my hipstersdom? The show Portlandia. From the Battlestar Galatica obsession to the free-range chicken to the parenting books fiasco, I’ve shook my head, laughing, “That is so true” an absurd number of times. I grow my own vegetables, advocate for bicycle rights, read feminist blogs, spend Saturday mornings at the farmer’s market, patronize local businesses, diaper my kid in cloth diapers, buy second-hand clothing, and own multiple pieces of jewelry featuring birds. While the show’s characters are over the top, I know in person or have at least read online some lesser version of almost every one of those characters, including the dumpster divers. (We once bought a carton of eggs from Dumpster Diving Guy before we realized what was going on.) My friends do things like bake donuts shaped like mustaches and talk about throwing out the entire monetary system and replacing it with a system of their own making. While Portlandia is gently poking fun at this lifestyle, I like it because it’s ultimately a love letter to my type of people.

Even though I don’t live in Portland, I think it’s especially worth embracing off-beat sincerity as a parent. If there are two absolutely necessary skills for being a parent, it’s sincerity and the ability to love people for who they really are, no matter how odd. You can’t ironically love a kid – it’s just an oxymoron. Similarly, you can’t really love someone if you don’t accept their quirks. And if there’s a group of people in the world who are full of quirks, it’s kids. Even people who grow up to be the most normal, boring, well-adjusted people are weird as kids, simply because they have a perspective that’s so different from adults. Some of the funniest mom bloggers chronicle these “special moments” – My Four Year Old is Weirder than Your Corgi and Horrifying Conversations with Mini on Rants from Mommyland are two of my favorites – and they are definitely worth celebrating.

I also like that hipster parents live out their values. While this can get overly self-righteous or judgmental towards others, knowing what you value and teaching those values to your kids through your relationship with them is something that’s too often left out of discussions on parenting. Kids see enough sarcasm and irony in society; knowing their parents actually believe in certain ideas like justice, respectful dialogue, and good music is rather reassuring.

While hipster as a term and culture have changed over time, the need for parents to love their kids sincerely never will. To paraphrase Austin’s famous slogan: “Keep parenting weird.”

10 Tips for Feeding Your Child Great Homemade Baby Food

10 Tips for Feeding Your Child Great Homemade Baby Food. Want to make your own homemade baby food? These tips will save you time and energy! (Photo: Baby holding an avocado.)

Cracking open a jar of baby food, I wrinkled my nose. The ingredients seemed fine – nothing unhealthy, certainly nothing unsafe – but the smell wasn’t exactly appetizing. I was definitely glad that I wasn’t eating it. I was also really grateful that jarred baby food was a back-up plan for us for the most part.

That’s because for both of our kids, we prepared homemade baby food ourselves. Here’s what we learned in the process.

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Happy First Birthday Party Sprout!

Happy First Birthday Party, Sprout!

A birthday – especially one as momentous as a first birthday – deserves a party. Of course, Sprout’s first birthday party was more for us than him, but getting through a full year as parents is also worth celebrating! It all turned out well in the end, but the party definitely confirmed that I am not a Pinterest mom.

I love hosting and having parties, but I’m not the fondest of preparing for them. Most of the time my main contribution is washing the loads upon loads of dishes that Chris dirties in his quest for culinary bliss.

But this party was fundamentally different from our former shindigs. Most of them have been in the winter and this was in the summer. We wanted to invite a lot more people than usual, so we could include not only our friends but also our relatives and church folks. As we can’t fit that many people in our small house, we rented the pavilion at a park across the street from our house.  Because we wouldn’t be right next to our kitchen, this (thankfully) limited Chris’ culinary ambitions.

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All the world is made of faith, and trust, and pixie dust. – Peter Pan

I’ve been working to win back Sprout’s trust since I returned from my work trip two weeks ago. Since then, he’s been somewhat skeptical that I wouldn’t leave him again. While Chris and I connected on FaceTime every night, seeing Mommy “in the box” just wasn’t the same as being in my arms.

When I first arrived home, Sprout’s reaction was subdued. It was close to his bedtime and Chris hadn’t been able to play with him much because he was sick, so Sprout was already in a bit of a mood. When I lifted him out of his car seat, he hardly cracked a smile. Certainly not the enthusiastic welcome I’d hoped for.

The next morning, once he realized I was back for good, his whole attitude changed. Then it became All Mommy, All the Time. When Chris was holding him, he’d reach his arms out to me. If I was present, I’d be the only one who could comfort him. If I was in the same room and not paying direct attention to him, he’d soon make sure I was. While I dislike Family Guy, I started to realize how true the bit where Stewie just says “Mommm, Mommmmmy” over and over again is. In general, his clingyness was getting really annoying. But because I appreciated Sprout’s need to feel attached to me and be reassured, I tried to be there mentally and physically for him as much as possible.

Of course, the worst was at night. At first, I tried to pick up where I left off on our sleep routine. When I left, he was able to fall asleep completely by himself with a little bit of babble-whining. After needing to go in and reassure him several times the first night, I realized I needed to back up a few steps on the sleep training. I think he associated me leaving him alone in his room with me Leaving Him. So I went back to sitting next to his crib with my eyes closed, present but not engaged. While we played the up-down game more than I would have liked (Sprout stands up, Mommy puts him down, Sprout stands up again, repeat up to 30 times), he eventually got used to the idea that I’d still be there when he went to sleep.

While we gradually worked our way back to a level of independence at bedtime, his reactions in the middle of the night have been far more unpredictable. While I was gone, he actually slept through the night a couple nights, much to Chris’s relief. The first few days after I returned, he either slept through the night or only woke once and went back to sleep after a reassuring hug. This calm lulled us into a sense of security and then his sleep schedule totally fell apart. He would fall asleep at bedtime, but then wake up in the middle of the night and not go back to sleep for hours at a time, no matter what we did. If I was holding him, he wouldn’t cry, just look at me with his big blue eyes. Nursing, rocking, holding – none of it worked. By training him not to rely on any of these methods, we seemed to immunize him against them being effective. And if we put him in his crib by himself – especially if I put him in his crib – he would start hard crying. As I really don’t believe in cry-it-out, it was horrifying. I either had to listen to my baby scream or not go back to bed – either way, I wasn’t getting back to sleep. I chose not to go back to bed, dragging Chris in for reinforcement. Because he takes much longer to fall back asleep than I do, I hate having to wake him in the middle of the night, but I didn’t have a choice.

We thought we had moved beyond this last week, but then Sprout got a cold and it reared its ugly head again. A few nights ago, I was so desperate that I tried to bring him into bed with us, but he was even less interested in sleeping there than he was in my arms. Instead, he thought it was playtime and promptly pulled Chris’s hair. I ended up sleeping on the couch for three hours with him in my arms.

As I respond to him during the day and night, Sprout’s feeling of security in my presence should continue to increase. In the meantime, I hope that we’re past most of the growing pains.

Just Saying “No!”

Sprout is wobbling on the edge of being a toddler. While he isn’t walking yet, he’s cruising from piece to piece of furniture and has more and more non-basic wants. This emotional development is leading to the introduction of the dreaded D word – discipline, along with its cousin, “No.”

For the most part, we try to limit how much we need to say no. Although Sprout is starting to understand what no means, he doesn’t really grasp it yet, so we don’t want to overuse it. It doesn’t mean that Sprout can do whatever he wants. Rather, we try to avoid the negative situation in the first place or change it. Instead of telling him not to put the remote control in his mouth, we just put it out of his reach. Other situations may be annoying, but are tolerable and not worth fighting over. We gave up on putting a bib on him because it became a tug of war where he ended up with more food on his shirt with the bib than without. Sometimes he wants to be picked up when I need to get ready for work, so I at least try to give him a hug even if I can’t carry him around.

On the other hand, there are certain behaviors that are simply intolerable and that Sprout actually can control. When he was first born, he would randomly flail his arms and legs. But now even when he doesn’t have the capacity for self control, but he does have the necessary fine and gross motor skills to avoid hitting me in the face.

Along these lines, most of the intolerable behavior is actions that hurt other people. I’ve been saying, “No biting,” “No hitting,” and “No scratching” a lot. But the most common one is “No pulling!” He loves playing with my hair while nursing, but I can’t tolerate him yanking it.

The other two behaviors are really annoying and gross, albeit not physically harmful. The first one is blowing raspberries while he has a mouth full of food, spraying it all over himself and whomever is feeding him. Similarly frustrating is his insistence on flipping over when we’re trying to change his diaper. While neither are the worse thing in the world, they both interfere with essential activities and we want to discourage them.

With all of these behaviors, I truly believe that Sprout doesn’t have ill intent. He doesn’t understand that other people have thoughts or feelings yet, so the idea that he’s causing someone else pain is pretty incomprehensible. Being gentle or careful requires a lot of focus, so when he doesn’t, he’s just in default mode. This is especially true when he’s really tired and just wants to flail. As he gets older, we need to keep reminding ourselves that he doesn’t always understand how the world works or have the emotional maturity to make certain decisions.

Also, I realize that the things we’re asking him to do are relatively complicated and difficult to understand. He can touch my hair or face – as long as it isn’t too violently. He can blow raspberries – except when he’s eating. He can flip over and crawl – except when we’re changing his diaper. Putting together the “if-then” combination is pretty challenging for him to comprehend, even though adults do it all of the time.

With this in mind, we’re generally taking a “positive parenting” approach, with some tweaks as necessary. While there’s a lot written on positive parenting, the Bible of the movement (as far as I can tell) is How to Talk So Kids Will Listen and Listen So Kids Will Talk. While I adore this book, most of the tools require your kid to speak fluently and as such, are of limited use with a not-quite-yet toddler. Fortunately, Dr. Harvey’s Karp’s The Happiest Toddler on the Block provides some good advice on transferring these skills to parenting toddlers, even if I wish he would acknowledge his sources far more.

A major aspect of positive parenting is setting the stage by encouraging and praising good behavior. When he touches my hair without pulling, I tell him, “Nice, gentle hands!” When he allows us to change his diaper without flipping over, I blow raspberries on his stomach, which makes him laugh.

If he starts up with the frustrating behavior, our first step is to respectfully acknowledge and if needed, voice, his needs and desires. Unfortunately, even Sprout’s non-verbal communication skills are limited, so sometimes we don’t know what he wants. This part is often about us figuring out what he’s trying to tell us through the annoying behavior. While sometimes he’s blowing raspberries to be silly, other times it’s because he’s done eating. Although I thought he was hitting me in the face for no reason, it turned out he wanted me to turn my head to reach my hair. We don’t want to reinforce the behavior, but at the same time we shouldn’t ignore what he’s trying to express, even if it’s not in quite the right form.

Next up, we provide alternatives. When he’s too tired to keep himself from pulling my hair, I offer him my hand to high five or slap. If we make funny sounds while feeding him or let him hold onto a toy bird, he doesn’t spit out his food everywhere as much. And a steady round of funny noises and This Little Piggy keeps him focused enough while changing him that (sometimes) he doesn’t want to turn over.

If he continues with the annoying behavior, we then communicate our feelings to him, saying “No!” and when appropriate, combined with “Ow!” (sometimes involuntarily!). We try to use a stern voice and facial expression to express how serious we’re being; I summon up the voice I used when I was substitute teaching.

If Sprout still continues the behavior after a couple of warnings we then proceed into mild discipline territory. The most common approach is taking away whatever is causing the problem, like tucking my hair behind my ear if he keeps pulling it or putting him down if he’s biting us. If it isn’t an object that’s a problem, but our attention, we remove that for a moment. We just turn away from him briefly to communicate that what he is doing is not acceptable. (This is especially important when what he is doing is genuinely funny but something we don’t want to encourage!) Dr. Karp calls this “gentle ignoring,” and I think it’s a useful tool.

As Sprout gets older, we don’t anticipate integrating punishment into our methods except in the most extreme circumstances. Instead, we hope to work our way towards participating in more joint problem solving and allowing natural consequences to work themselves out. Positive parenting requires a lot of patience and empathy, but I think all of us will be better people in the end.

An Open Letter to Parenting Philosophers

I believe in being positive, especially as a parent, but sometimes I do get frustrated. I get angry when people are being oppressed, when someone is reinforcing prejudicial societal patterns, or when people are putting others in unnecessary pain. Rather than making Chris listen to me rant (yet again), I’ll write an Open Letter addressing whatever is making me angry.

I don’t believe in parenting philosophies. That’s not to say that I don’t believe they exist – the reams of parenting books and blogs would immediately disprove me. Rather, I don’t believe in their usefulness as moral and ethical frameworks. Instead, I think they’re useful as broad sets of guidelines from which parents can and should pick and choose based on their own values. Trying to apply something as restrictive as a specific ethical philosophy to something as situational, deeply personal, and chaotic as parenting is bound to end in frustration. Parents feel judged enough – making them feel as if it’s straight up immoral if they don’t follow your philosophy in every situation is just wrong!

Lately, I’ve felt very frustrated when I’m reading a blog post or book where I agree with the broad viewpoint but they take a position that’s so extreme that it doesn’t match anyone’s lived experience that I know. This is a pretty common issue with philosophical frameworks – it’s how you end up with annoying thought experiments like the trolley problem. Normally, this isn’t a huge issue. In “real life,” the only person who will judge you if you don’t follow a single philosophical framework in every area of your life is a freshman philosophy student. However, everything in parenting is about people’s personal, everyday lives. Unfortunately, most parenting philosophies don’t make space for the variability between families.

Often, this narrow viewpoint comes from the author’s unacknowledged privilege. This unexamined privilege shows up in all sorts of issues, from prenatal care to sleeping arrangements.

Broadly, it’s a good idea if pregnant women eat a variety of fruits and vegetables. But using language that’s going to inspire guilt in women who can’t meet those requirements (looking at you, What to Expect When You’re Expecting) is unfair to the many pregnant women who feel hideous nausea all of the time and can only eat very limited diets. And that’s not to mention the women who had food sensitivities before they got pregnant.

In general, breastfeeding is a important behavior to encourage and teach new moms how to do. But for women for whom breastfeeding exasterbates post-partum depression or is so awful that they’re in chronic pain, telling them that using formula denies your child “what is needed for development” is just reinforcing the narrative of failure that’s already running through their heads. Besides physical restrictions, there are many women who have to return to workplaces – especially retail and other service industry positions – that have no space or time accommodations for pumping, making breastfeeding after a few weeks impossible. New laws require employers to provide these resources, but considering how common wage theft is despite the fact that it affects a much larger population, I’m not confident in enforcement. While these articles often blame the larger society for not supporting breastfeeding instead of the individual, the language still feels intensely personal.

I’m all for the general idea of attachment parenting, but saying that co-sleeping and baby-wearing will guarantee that your child will never be a bully minimizes so many other social pressures and makes non-attachment parents feel unnecessarily guilty. Statements like that fail to acknowledge that not everyone is capable of that level of intense exercise after giving birth. A friend of mine was left with severe back pain after a very long, intense delivery and unable to carry her son around. However, that doesn’t mean that she loves him any less or he’ll be irrevocably damaged.

Beyond privilege, some of the philosophies are just absurd when carried to a certain point. I believe that babies shouldn’t be cooped up in seats or forced into positions they aren’t ready for. But claiming that propping your baby to sitting once in a while will doom him or her to a life of klutziness is ridiculous.

Basically, these philosophies and their advocates need to cut parents – especially moms, because they’re usually targeted at moms – some much-needed slack. Moms are expected to get everything just right these days, truly “leaning in” and “having it all” when that’s impossible or much too stressful than is healthy. Adding to that pressure by implying that moms who don’t follow a definitive philosophy are permanently damaging their children is irresponsible and mean. Babies have flexible brains and are remarkably adept at developing well even when we screw up once in a while. Similarly, making hyped up promises that everything will go perfectly – your baby will definitely sleep through the night, be wonderfully calm or naturally graceful – makes the parent who follow those philosophies and don’t get the results feel like there’s something wrong with them rather the idea that maybe the approach doesn’t work for their family. While there are (TW: descriptions of child abuse) some philosophies that no one should ever adopt, no single philosophy is perfect for every situation or every family.

Instead of presenting these philosophies as the end-all and be-all, I wish that the advocates would present their ideas as a toolbox of skills and options that parents can use as needed. I would like them to acknowledge that other philosophies may have some good points that parents may want to draw from. I would like them to even show parents how actions offered by their philosophy can fit with or complement others.

In the meantime, it’s up to us as parents to not allow ourselves to be intimidated by dire warnings and over-promises. By rejecting the formulation of One Right Way to parent, we can embrace the fluidity and chaos of parenting in all of its messy glory. By allowing ourselves the freedom to pick and choose, we can end up with what’s right for our families, no matter what anyone else thinks.

We’re All Stories in the End

Today is the 50th anniversary of two of my favorite pop culture icons: Where the Wild Things Are and Doctor Who. What I love about both of these creations is their intense cultivation of wonder without shying away from its dangers. Because of this dualism, they capture the experience both of being a child and being a parent.

I came to the two properties from opposite ends. Where the Wild Things Are has been a favorite of mine since I was a child, which I then rediscovered as an adult. I remembered it fondly, but never really understood how insightful it was until I recently reread it to my newborn son. Like most Americans, I came to Doctor Who as an adult, already in my late 20s. While I didn’t find the first few episodes compelling, I fell in love half-way through watching the first season of the new series. Since then, I’ve been a head-over-heels fan. Between one of my favorite blogs, TARDIS Eruditorum, and other critical analysis, I’ve also found depths that I would have never guessed upon the first viewing of the episodes.

Somehow, both of them communicate eternal truths in a package appropriate for children. They both express a combination of fear and beauty, anger and creativity, hurting and healing. They are both about creating worlds in your imagination and the people who help you save this one. Perhaps most importantly, both are about the radical power of stories, the ones we tell about ourselves and others.

While my five-month-old son (nicknamed Sprout) is too young to understand one and too young to experience the other at all, I know that this book and show both embrace values that I want to pass on to him. That philosophy of awe and love in the context of parenting (and sometimes pop culture) and how that plays out is what this blog is about.

One of these stories is about a time-traveling madman in a box. The other is about a child who creates entire worlds full of magical creatures but returns home to his mother. And they’re both the same – they’re about us.