Can't we all just get along?

I've been a parental roll, lately. I suppose a solid four days off of work spent with my kid will do that to me.

But, it's been an enlightening (and awesome, for a variety of reasons) few days.

First, there I was, washing the dishes with my parents, and explaining to them the meaning of the new vernacular "helicopter parent." My dad got it immediately: he sees them every day on the playground when he takes G. He, himself, is a very hands-off parent. So hands-off that his theory of childrearing has been lovingly nicknamed "benign neglect" by my sisters and me. Or maybe he made that one up himself; I honestly don't remember.

So anyway, Dad gets it. My mom needs a little more explaining. She's the type that totally would have been one of these parents if a) the technology had been available and b) my dad hadn't been around to point out how silly she was being. But she does get it eventually, because when I get into the stories of parents calling their kids' college professors and employers (or again), the lightbulb goes on.

Then Dad and I backtrack and explain to her how the whole thing starts when a kid is two and you don't let them climb on the playground equipment without holding your hand. Literally. Two-year-olds that can't climb up to the slide.

There's a great article in Time (or at least, on their website) that touches very briefly on the benefits of allowing kids their space, their messes, their sneakiness. The author is referring to teenagers and adolescents, but I think that it applies to the little ones, too, in a way. Letting G throw the egg cartons around the dining room, and then explaining to her that she has to pick them up (and helping her do so, because she is, after all, TWO) is a valuable lesson. And if I didn't let her make the mess, she'd not learn it.

This is something my father understands instinctively, and I credit him with passing that knowledge on to me. Maybe it's part of the genes he gave me, or maybe it's that his upbringing did me so much good, but really, I think he's right on this one.

On the other hand, there's so much that we put into parenting these days, and how competitive it is, and how very rigid we get with our notions of what a good parent is and does. I cannot tell you how many shocked looks I get just walking down the street with mine. Do our unshod feet bother you that much? Or is that when she stops in the middle of the sidewalk and asks to do yoga, I lead her through a sun salutation or a triangle pose? Or perhaps it's listening to me explain to her that people often use the word "ironic" when they mean something more like "coincidental" or "serendipitous."

This offends people, apparently. I'm sorry. If you don't want me to lecture my two-year-old about the proper use of ironic, START USING IT CORRECTLY.

Oh, but that's not where I was going with this.

TOLERANCE. My point is tolerance. There's a lovely article on Salon about the dangers of rigidity and intolerance. Do we really need to make something as terrifying as being responsible for the growth and development of a human being into a contest? Are our tribal instincts so overpowering that we must throw to the wolves anyone that doesn't conform to our worldview? Or, childview. Whichever.

It's ridiculous. I'll do the best I can, and so will you, and I guarantee you that your best and my best do not look anything like each other. And that's cool, honestly. I may think helicopter parents are kind of sick, but maybe there is something to the whole "security" argument. Still, I couldn't pull it off. Not my style, and I'd be miserable, and if there's one thing I think almost anyone would agree with it's this:

Miserable parents raise miserable kids.

So be happy.

And let's all cut each other some slack, yeah? Sounds great.