3:30 a.m.
A mother hums softly, her voice trembling as she pulls the swaddling blanket snugly around her little one. “This is probably too tight,” she muses. The guide insists that tightly swaddling will soothe him, yet the baby cries louder, thrashing against the blanket. She rocks back and forth, but the wails continue. He’s been changed, fed, and burped—yet the screams persist. Panic sets in as she wonders if something is truly wrong. Rushing to unfasten the blanket, she secures him into his car seat and heads toward Urgent Care. About halfway there, silence envelops the car. She turns to check—thankfully, he’s just asleep. Relieved, she drives back home, pulling into the garage. Opening the door feels too risky, so she reclines her seat, wipes away a tear of fatigue, and drifts off into slumber.
8:30 a.m.
“Time to get dressed!” the mother announces to her toddler. “NO! I no wanna get dressed!” comes the defiant reply. “But we need to get ready to go, sweetheart.” “NO! I no wanna go!” The guide suggests using cooperative language. “Okay, let’s get dressed. I can help you.” She gently takes her daughter’s hand, but her little one collapses into a heap on the floor. “What if you choose between the green shirt or the pink one?” “NO!” “Well, sweetie, ‘NO’ isn’t an option. What do you want to wear?” “NO! NO! NO!” Just then, the baby starts to cry. In a moment of desperation, Mom yanks off the toddler’s pajama top and wrestles the pink shirt over her head. “NO! I don’t want this shirt!” “You should have picked one. How about your pants?” “NO! I don’t want pants! NO NO NO!” Seriously? the mother thinks. Choices, huh?
3:30 p.m.
Picking her son up from kindergarten, a mother beams as he presents a colorful painting. “Look at my picture, Mommy! Isn’t it amazing?” The guide advises giving non-judgmental feedback. “Wow, it’s so vibrant!” she exclaims. “Yeah! It’s a dragon! Do you like it?” he asks eagerly. The guide emphasizes focusing on the effort rather than the outcome. “You surely worked hard on that!” Her son’s shoulders slump a bit. “Yeah, but do you like it, Mommy? I made it for you.” The guide warns that praise can hinder kids’ intrinsic motivation… but just look at that hopeful little face… “Sweetie, I absolutely love it! It’s the coolest dragon I’ve ever seen.” His face lights up, and he hugs her tightly. Forget the guide.
Ah, the guides. At some point in our parenting journey, we realize raising children is far more intricate than we ever imagined. In search of answers, we cling to these guides like they’re flashlights in a dark room. We stack them on our nightstands, hoping to absorb their wisdom through sheer proximity. Each new book seems like it holds the perfect solution for our parenting woes.
But here’s the kicker: while the advice looks great on paper, it often doesn’t translate well into real life. Kids can be wildly illogical—like tiny, unpredictable tornadoes of emotion. They are as complex and unique as adults, requiring individualized approaches to meet their needs.
After 15 years and three kids, I’ve learned that parenting is a deeply personal journey. Trying to apply one guide’s philosophy to your family may lead to frustration. What works for one child might flop for another, and even the most reliable methods can suddenly stop working. One guide may be a lifesaver for a friend, while it feels completely off-base for you.
Throughout my parenting journey, I’ve oscillated between love and frustration with various guides. I particularly enjoy those using comic strip scenarios that illustrate what happens when parents implement their advice. You know the ones where kids suddenly feel calm and centered because their parents are “really listening”? Hilarious! Unfortunately, kids rarely follow a script—at least mine don’t.
Parenting is more of an art than a science, more organic than systematic, and often requires improvisation rather than a script. This isn’t to say that research and structured methods don’t have their place; they can be incredibly helpful. However, what looks good on paper can fall apart in reality. It’s a process of trial and error, as kids are ever-changing.
After years of reflecting on parenting guides, I’ve come to this conclusion: at some point, you need to develop your own parenting philosophy rooted in your values, beliefs, personality, and vision for your family. It may sound daunting, but with time and thought, it can be straightforward. Refine it and write it down; having a clear framework can be more beneficial in the long run than any one-size-fits-all approach.
Equally important is knowing your kids. Continuously learn about them—“Learn your learners,” as a wise coach once said. Make an effort to connect and understand each child as an individual, and adjust your methods to fit their distinct personalities and temperaments, all while adhering to your overarching parenting philosophy.
There’s nothing wrong with utilizing guides—as long as they reflect your own values rather than someone else’s. And remember, staying tuned into the reality of parenting beyond the pages is where the real, beautiful, and often messy experience of raising kids unfolds.
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Summary:
This article dives into the complexities of parenting, highlighting the discrepancies between parenting advice found in guides and the unpredictable reality of raising children. It emphasizes the importance of developing a personalized parenting philosophy based on individual values and understanding each child’s unique needs. The author shares humorous anecdotes from her own parenting journey, illustrating that while guides can be helpful, real-life parenting often requires a more flexible and intuitive approach.