Parenting Books Are a Racket: Here's Why

You know those parents who always talk to their kids in calm voices?  And are always saying things like, "I think you could have made a better choice"? And are irritatingly peaceful when their children are doing things that would make the rest of us want to scream and/or run for the hills?

I used to roll my eyes at them.  Now, I want to be one of them.

I used to think they were acting that way because they were sure that doing so was a better parenting strategy, that they would raise better children with this method than with all that yellin' the rest of us do..

Lately, I'm thinking that this is not the case.  I've tried that calm voice thing.  For days on end now, I've been curbing my yelling, encouraging better choices, offering positive alternatives, and modeling the change I want to see in my children.  It's totally not working.  They remain shrill gremlin-like harpies.

I don't think parenting makes a whit of difference.  Case in point:

Kids bickering to beat the band?  Making you want to tear your own ears off?

• If you yell and scream at them and get really pissed off that they can't manage a 5 minute car ride without being evil to each other, they will still fight and bicker and behave abominably. 
• If you calmly tell them that you expect them to be better to each other, and calmly explain a tangible consequence if they choose to keep fighting, and calmly grip the steering wheel without going all Samuel Jackson on their asses, they will still fight and bicker and behave abominably.

The only difference is you.  If you chose the latter, you will not have succumbed to hypocrisy and your throat will not hurt.  You will not have anything to feel bad about later (unless you count having children who ignore you; depending on the day, I do) and you will not be exhausted by your own rage.  The kids?  Will be exactly as unpleasant as ever.  Mox nix.  Makes no difference.  Calm parents know this.

I suspect that every parenting book in the world is really only about making parents feel better about themselves, not about changing children's behavior.  It's as if the title of every single one should really just be: How Not To Be A Hypocrite, and Save Your Vocal Cords in the Process.

All those books?  Are about exactly the same thing.  Survival.
image from http://dulcefamily.blogspot.com

The kids will raise themselves.  I'm just gonna try to get them to adulthood with my throat and my dignity intact.

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Good Friday Rerun

Originally posted back in 2010.


This morning, Little T asked me to tell her the story of when Jesus died. I was a little occupied with 3 or 4 other multi-tasking distractions, so I tapped her 5 year old sister for the job. (Little T told me a few weeks ago that Lady E had told her the story before, so there was precedence.)

Lady E happily complied:

So when Jesus died, there were these people who put nails on his wrists and his feet and put him up on a cross because he wouldn't punch his pilot.

Unfortunately, she never made it to the Resurrection part of the story because her mother was howling too loudly with laughter.  The real question here, then, is: WWJF? Which Would Jesus Fly: Coach or First Class??

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Postscript: the 3 and 5 year olds of this story are now 7 and 9.  I still howl every time I think of it.  Also? The first time I posted this, I got two awesome answers to the real question:

Sandy said...

Don't be silly - He'd be the co-pilot

Homemaker Man said...

Jesus flies business class. On Virgin airlines.

On that hilarious note, a blessed Good Friday to all!

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Kurt! I Had No Idea I Loved You So!

I have learned more cool stuff about Kurt Vonnegut in the last few weeks than I ever thought I would want to know.

First, there was the article in the Huffington Post about the letter Mr. Vonnegut wrote in 2006 to a class of high school students who had asked him to come and visit them.  He declined the visit, but gave them the best life advice ever.  Good for students, good for people.  Good for curmudgeonly moms too.

"Do art, and do it for the rest of your lives."  Go read the rest.  Seriously, do it right now.

And it turns out, writing was not his only art!  Page-turner, a New Yorker blog, has a post up about Vonnegut's "whimsical drawings."  Here is one:

My favorite!

Look at that.  It's awesome.  And I do not mean to diminish his work one teensy bit when I say that it reminds me of my kids' art.  Their art is awesome too.  I particularly love the way he has colored in some of the shapes created by his free flowing black lines.  My kids do this.  I did this when I was a youth.  Looking at this picture makes me kind of want to do it more. 

Do art, people.  It's good for the soul.  

Thanks Mr. Vonnegut!  I'm sure you are having a grand ole time in that eternal art studio in the sky!

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So Over Frozen

After disappointing my daughters this morning and earning the title Meanest Mom Ever for the umpteenth time by not agreeing to buy a Do You Want to Build a Snowman ringtone for my phone, that song was -- predictably -- stuck in my head.  I even made a graphic for it:

It stuck in my head so badly, that I finally just gave in and came up with an impromptu version of my own.  

Perhaps a few of you can relate.

So here, for your enjoyment,  is an ode to my daughters, who are making me koo-koo-for-cocoa-puffs with their endless, infernal repetitions of those damn catchy Frozen numbers.

Do You Wanna Make My Ears Bleed?  

(Sing along…I know you know the tune.)

Me:

Child?

(Said child, rapping on my skull: Rap, rap, rap, rap, rap, rap)

Do you wanna make my ears bleed?
Come on, admit you do.
I always hear you, everyday
Singing away

It's like you’ve pushed me far
Off the deep end, baby
And now, I’m nuts
I wish you would stop sing-EEEENG

Do you wanna make my ears bleed?
Or maybe make me lose my coo-ool.

My kid:
Go away, Mama

Me:
Would if I could, kid.

Do you wanna make my ears bleed?
Or ride my nerves to shreds
I think lots of silence is overdue
I've started craving
a cell with empty walls—
(Cloistered or padded, Mama?)
I’d like to be a little lonely
In some empty rooms,

Just hearing the hours tick by-
(Tic-Tock, Tic-Tock, Tic-Tock, Tic-Tock, Tic-Tock)

(Orchestral)

My Kid (Knocking)
Mama?

Me:

Please, I know you really love me,
Show me by shutting uh-up.
I say “have mercy” and I’m begging you
I’m always here for you, just close your mouth!
You only have one mother
Don’t make her go insane
What is it gonna be?

Do you wanna make my ears bleed?

* * *

Camera pulls away from a weeping mother…fade to black…aaaaaaand: scene.

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