Rally Your Parenting Village, Now.

So. It’s been awhile. Not for lack of inspirational writing material (there’s been plenty), or because our family has had COVID (we’ve had it, but it was mild, thankfully), or because my site crashed (it hasn’t). Full disclosure, I haven’t posted because of my addiction to double-spacing after end punctuation, which I hear is way passe because we no longer use typewriters. But I simply cannot commit myself to unlearning the only thing I could do consistently well in my high school typing class.

Oh, and because my family recently moved to New Zealand.

One of these “excuses” is actually true. But more on that later.

Anyway, to the point:

The village, people.

Not the Village People. I may still double-space after a period, but I do know where commas matter, and I truly mean the village, people.

Because no one can parent their kids in a vacuum. Social media has put a final nail in that coffin. As if peer pressure and satellite tv haven’t done enough already. It truly takes a community of real, live people to raise our kids because as parents our attention can’t be trained on our children 24/7. Our kids can be right beside us on the couch and still be a million miles away, especially with their noses practically glued to their smart phones.

I was on a hike today, and “wrote” this post in my head as I tramped along, and was really happy with how my stream-of-consciousness unspooled. Of course, now I can’t recall much of its easy flow, sitting in front of my laptop with a presently empty wine glass at my side. But blog posts don’t write themselves, and darn it all if modern tech hasn’t invented an implantable “thought transcriptionist” from which I can download my glittering “it takes a village” rational.

So please bear with me.

We’re all human.

Kids. Other adults. And especially parents. But this reality is far from our minds when our child has misbehaved. Fight-or-flight kicks in: our parenting has been attacked, our character judged and our child labelled. And of course wrongly labelled, because we haven’t taught our offspring to do wrong. And we go full-on ursine, ready to scratch and claw our way to defend and exonerate our offspring. Because we’ve really tried and hope our kids have soaked up all that good parenting. And when that doesn’t happen it’s a nasty horse pill of a swallow.* It’s disappointing, humiliating, and…then we get angry at our child. And forget that he is human, too. Because…

It’s pretty darn human to forget we’re all human.

But truth be told, I do want to know if my kids have misbehaved. As much as I hate to hear that one of them has wronged a peer, or disrespected an adult, or done something else I’ve told them a million times not to do, I want to know. AndI want to hear their end of the story and help them figure out how to fix the problem and do better next time.

I want to help my kids be better humans.

And then your arachnophobic child is chased at recess by a kid armed with a hairy spider. Or he’s choked with his own shirt by a classmate, or dropped ceremoniously by her best friends. We expect the offender’s parents to shed their fallible humanity and make things right. We expect the right balance of sincere incredulity and apology, and the timing of such perfection to not keep us waiting too long nor be too knee-jerk that it feels disingenuous. And of course, we’re flat-out pissed at those parents for what we think they’ve been teaching (or not teaching) their kids. It’s exhausting, that Mama Bear that bursts forth. She’s unrelenting, unreasonable and unforgiving.

I expect other humans to be super-human, and that’s not fair.

What parent hasn’t felt this way?

None of us.

Because, wait for it, we’re all human. Weird we call it being a “Mama Bear,” because it’s only natural that humans fiercely protect our tribe, too.

(By the way, if you want to see a real mama bear in action, check out the award-winning documentary Bears of Durango, which is available for rent worldwide at bearsofdurango.com.)

Buckle your seatbelts.

Can I admit something more? I hate how these crises, altercations, scuffles…whatever you wish to call them…cause a big, old time suck. As in, when I get that call, and I think, shit, I really wanted to get a workout in or knock an item or two off my ever-expanding to-do list but now I have to parent instead!

Even though it’s the most important responsibility I’ll ever have!

There it is. Mislaying the prime directive of being a parent, and hating on the disruption of plans and schedules.

And you know what? the parents who get that call from us, these parents are thinking:

Shit, I JUST GOT HOME FROM WORK, and I really wanted to get a workout in or knock an item or two off my ever-expanding to-do list but now I have to parent instead. Even though it’s the most important responsibility I’ll ever have.

They are only human, too.

(Then there are the whack-jobs who assume their children can do no wrong and go off the deep end in an f-bomb fueled diatribe to defend their family’s honor. Yes, I’ve heard it happen. These folks aren’t human, rabid bear, I think.)

Now let’s bring it home

So parents, and anyone else who knows kids, if we want to do right by the next generations (which I’m told are called gens Z and Alpha…, we gotta accept first and foremost, our own innate, infallible fallibility. And then, only then, can we move on to accepting those unexpected Parenting Moments with open arms. Well, maybe not with “open arms” but with an open mind, an understanding that no one finds it easy to help a hurting child. And they are all hurting in one way or another, whether as the aggravator or the aggrieved.

And perhaps the hardest part is not just accepting, but truly believing, it does take a village to raise good people. That it has to be ok to talk with other parents about what children have done wrong to another. Not to mention how hard it is to “talk” and not explode with emotion.

Because here’s what I’ve learned, having been a parent on both sides of a kid-fueled conflict:

Parents can be really cool-headed and rational and will just tell you,

I want to be part of your village.

Let people in, and help them let you in.

Because, you know, we are all human.

Life is ten percent what happens to us and 90 percent how we react to it.

(quote seen as an inspiration on youryogaflow.com)

*I remember as a small child having to swallow these huge pink capsules of antibiotic when I was sick. That sensation and taste haunts me to this day.

How’s my typing? Feel free to reach out if my erratic post-punctuation spacing interfered with your enjoyment of this blog post. Leave your comments below.

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