I’m not feeling the heat this morning. On my titties, that is. But I think I know what will spread a little warmth amongst the masses. A little parenting debate, anyone?
I’ve spent the morning ( since 5 am because the
wretched spawn sweet little life inside me woke me up starving) perusing this article and this one too. Both articles are similarly toned. They discuss cultural differences in child rearing philosophies from around the world and compare them to North American habits. Really good reads, by the way.
They both came up with the same conclusion. We suck at parenting over here.
That’s right. You. Me. All of us.
Why? Because we have crawled so far up our children’s asses that they don’t even know what we look like anymore. Get out of your child’s ass!
Here’s the first Hot on the Titties part. There is, in my opinion, a bit of a conflicting argument in both articles. Both of them advocate for attachment style parenting in the early years of life. Co-sleeping, constant contact, not introducing a scheduled feeding etc etc. The argument is that these things provide comfort and teach the baby reassurance and confidence and comfort. On the flip side, one of the articles states that getting a baby on a schedule and letting them cry things out doesn’t teach independence or how to self soothe. Because they are incapable of learning routine this early. Or at least that’s how I understood it.
Well which is it? An infant is or isn’t capable of learning a habit or behavior at this point? I’d like to know, because I loved pretty much everything else I read in the articles.
Anyway, moving forward to Hot on The Titties part 2, there seems to be some things that us North American parents need to address, so based on the information provided in the articles above, Here are Cookie’s Rules of Preventing Assholism and Pussiness In your Kids:
1. Give your child knives to play with and let them fall out of trees. No. Really. Children are not made out of glass. I know this because Destroyer regularly throws herself down stairs or other high up objects and she’s not broken yet. She likes to play with pointy sticks and still has both eyes. The idea is to give them situations where they learn risk assessment, I suppose. Just keep the bandaids handy.
2. Let.Your. Child. Play Outside. Unstructured, free play. Don’t play with them. Don’t pick them up every time they fall. Let them get dirty and tear the holes out of the knees of their jeans. You know they are only going to fit for another 2 weeks anyway.
3. Don’t schedule every single minute of after school life. Your child will thank you. Your bank account will thank you.
4. Next time you start cooking dinner, and then pull out some chicken fingers for the kids, find someone to give you a good spanking. Make the kid eat what’s on his fucking plate. I can’t tell you how much I love the Koreans for this rule.
5. Let your child ride his bike and bounce his ball and make ALL the noises outside. And if someone gives him shit for making too much noise, give your kid permission to tell that person to fuck off. And tell your kid to give that person your phone number so you can tell them the same thing.
6. When your child is playing with other children, park your ass on the bench and watch. Play on your phone. Yack at the parent next to you. If your kid wants you, they know where you are. Where they don’t want you? Up their ass on the play structure. Seriously.
7. Let them solve their own shit sometimes. Like when Destroyer can’t reach something on the other side of the table, I’m not getting up to grab it for her anymore. She can figure out to walk around to the other side, and retrieve her heart’s desire her goddamn self once in a while. And if she can’t figure it out, she will have to learn to cope with frustration and disappointment sometimes, won’t she?
Now, before some of the crazies out there jump all over MY tits and start calling me apathetic in regards to my child, know this:
I love my child fiercely. God help the motherfucker that ever tried to lay harm on her, they would know what it means to regret something. But how can she learn to be independent if I am there spooning every single thing in to her? How can she grow up to be her own person?
I want her to experience some things in life on her own terms. And if I do my job right, she will have the decision making skills and confidence to be safe and smart and brilliant. And my hope is that she will come back to share her experiences with me because she knows that I am always waiting for her, supporting her and cheering her on, even when I’m not up her ass, prodding her along. I want her to know she can do it on her own, even though she’s not on her own.