“We need to understand that there is no formula for how women should lead their lives. That is why we must respect the choices that each woman makes for herself and her family.” ~ Hillary Rodham Clinton, It Takes a Village
There's a funny article that's been going around lately, popping up in emails and social media sites. It discusses a new method of parenting called the CTFD Method. In case you didn't know, it stands for Calm the F*** Down. I love it. It basically says you need to quit getting so uptight that you're not doing it right...just calm down and continue with your best intentions.
It's funny and calming, all at the same time. It makes you laugh and feel better about yourself and the choices you make.
Kind of like sipping a mojito while watching an episode of Dance Moms.
We all tackle this parenting gig differently. We all have expectations and ideas of what parenthood will be like.
Typically those ideas and expectations are dashed within the first week of birth, when you're removing a diaper off your newborn and realizing you should be wearing a bio hazard suit.
But all of us, or at least the vast majority of us, want the same things for our babies:
To be healthy...
To be happy...
To learn responsibility as they get older...
We just may go about it in a different way. Some of us are more organic, some of us are more into sports and athletics, some of us are more into the academic successes of our children.
And some of us are just desperately trying to give our children a little bit of all that, while keeping them confident and out of juvie.
We all go about guiding our children in different paths. As a divorced mom, I don't want my kids thinking they can get away with stuff just because they don't have a dad there every day barking in a stern dad voice. Trust me, my kids will say I bark plenty.
My friends will laugh and tell me, "You can be hard on those kids. I mean, good for you, but holy cow..."
One time I was on the phone with a friend, who is black. While I was telling my kids what to do before they could sit down and watch tv, my friend laughed on the other end and said, "Damn, Vanessa. You parent like a black mom."
Instantly I imagined myself as Tyler Perry's character Madea, standing in my kitchen. Minus the white hair and shapeless housedress. That coud be me, I thought.
About a month ago I had some girlfriends over and we were having wine out on my patio. I had told one of my daughters that she needed to mow the lawn.
"The front AND the back?" she asked.
"Yes," I replied, rolling my eyes.
"Why?" she whined.
"Because you didn't call me from the Mall of America last night when you said you would."
She turned around in a huff and began to mow the lawn.
During the next hour I watched her carefully while I sipped my wine. When she ran out of gas I instructed her how she should fill up the mower. When she missed a patch by some trees, I marched out into the lawn, carefully balancing my wine so it wouldn't spill, and pointed out that she wasn't finished. By this time my daughter had already showered, thinking she was finished. Nope, not quite.
My friends shook their heads and laughed. "Boy, you don't let up, do you."
But what are we teaching our kids if we let them get away with half-ass work?
Not that I'm always consistent. There are times I let them watch R rated movies, and play too many video games, and ride bikes around town and swim without life jackets.
The do-it-my-way and the what-the-hell-go-ahead attitudes have to balance each other out.
When we calm down, parenting becomes a lot easier.
You know what else gets easier? When we realize we can't do it all ourselves and accept help from the Village.
You know what Village I'm talking about - the other adults out there who help steer your kids in the right direction. Grandparents, teachers, family friends. Sometimes even complete strangers.
A few weeks ago I got a call from a number I didn't recognize. It was a woman who said she was with my 9 year old son, after he wiped out on the road on his bicycle. Apparently he was riding pretty fast and tried to take a corner without slowing down much. He wiped out and skinned his knees. This woman saw him and pulled over, making sure he was ok. Then she called me to let me know, and put my son on the line so I could talk to him.
It's instances like this that make me so grateful my kids are growing up in this town. They are surrounded by a great Village who look out for them and hold them accountable.
That's why I have no problem when my kids get reprimanded by my friends. Some people don't like it when other adults discipline their children. Not me. Have at it. Let my kids have the same fear growing up as I did:
Oh crap, how much did they see? And most importantly, are they going to tell my parents???
So you see, if we can embrace the Village and Calm the F*** Down, we'll all be better off. We'll be more relaxed as parents and our kids will know they can't get away with things.
Especially when they're mowing the back lawn.
