3:30 a.m.
A mother softly hums, drawing the swaddling blanket snugly around her baby. “This has to be too tight,” she worries. The guide says that swaddling tightly will help soothe him. Yet, he cries out, kicking against the fabric, his displeasure evident. She rocks him. He screams. She sways. He screams. He’s been fed, changed, and burped, but the wailing persists. Is something wrong? In a moment of desperation, she loosens the blanket, secures the baby into his car seat, and begins the drive to Urgent Care. But halfway there, silence fills the car. She checks—he’s just asleep. Relieved, she returns home, parks in the garage, and cautiously turns off the engine. The thought of opening the door feels daunting, so she reclines her seat, wipes away a weary tear, and drifts off.
8:30 a.m.
A mother tells her toddler it’s time to get dressed. “No! I no wanna get dressed!” “But we need to get ready to go, sweetie.” “No! I no wanna go!” The guide advises using cooperative language. “Come on, let’s get dressed. I’ll help you.” She takes her daughter’s hand. In an instant, her daughter melts onto the floor. The guide suggests giving toddlers choices. “Would you like to wear the green shirt or the pink one?” “No!” “No!” isn’t an option, darling. “What do you want to wear?” “NO! NO! NO!” From another room, the baby begins to cry. In one swift motion, Mom removes the toddler’s pajama top and wrestles the pink shirt over her head. “No! I no want this shirt!” “Well, you should have picked one. How about your pants?” “No! I no want pants! No No No!” Really? thinks the mom. Choices, my foot.
3:30 p.m.
A mother picks up her son from kindergarten. He proudly holds up a painting. “Look at my picture, Mommy! Isn’t it cool?” The guide advises providing nonjudgmental feedback. “Oh, it’s so colorful!” she responds. “Yeah! It’s a dragon! Do you like it?” he asks eagerly. The guide says to praise effort over results. “It looks like you worked really hard on that!” But the boy’s shoulders slump. “Yeah, but do you like it, Mommy? I made it for you.” The guide warns that excessive praise can hinder kids’ intrinsic motivation. But look at his hopeful little face. “Sweetie, I love it. I think it’s the coolest dragon ever.” His face lights up, and he hugs her tight. Forget the guide.
Ah, The Guides. At some point, we parents realize that raising children is far more intricate than we ever imagined. Unsure of our methods, we turn to The Guides, clinging to them like beacons in the dark. We stack them on our nightstands, hoping their wisdom will seep into us. Each new book feels like it holds The Answer, The Solution, The Key to mastering parenting.
Here lies the issue with The Guides: Much of the parenting advice reads wonderfully on paper. It’s logical, it makes sense. Whether it’s behavior management methods, disciplinary philosophies, or theories on child needs, authors excel at simplifying these concepts on paper.
But parenting in real life? That’s an entirely different challenge. Kids can be completely irrational little beings. They are not simple; they are as unique as adults, with individual needs and preferences as distinct as fingerprints.
After over a decade and three children, what I’ve learned is that parenting is a deeply personal journey. Relying solely on one guide’s philosophy can lead to frustration. What works for one child may not work for another. A strategy might succeed for a while, but then suddenly fail. A guide that is a lifesaver for a friend might not suit your situation at all. Many guides sound fantastic in theory but may not translate well into reality.
Throughout my parenting journey, my feelings towards certain guides have ranged from admiration to frustration. I have come to appreciate those that use comic strip scenarios depicting parent-child interactions. You know the ones where the kid says, “Oh, I feel so calm and centered now that you’ve shown you’re really listening.” Or, “Bedtime feels wonderful now that you’ve made me feel safe.” Hilarious! Unfortunately, kids don’t always stick to a script. At least mine don’t.
Parenting is more art than science, more organic than systematic, and more improvisational than scripted. That’s not to say research and structured approaches don’t have their place—they can be incredibly useful. However, what looks good on paper might not work in practice. There’s always an element of trial and error. Kids grow and change constantly, and humans are inherently complex, making the task of raising them equally complex.
After years of reflecting on The Guides, I’ve reached a conclusion: you need to develop your own parenting philosophy rooted in your values, beliefs, personality, and vision for your family. It may sound daunting, but it’s a manageable process that requires time and introspection. Craft it, and jot it down. Establishing a clear framework that defines your unique family dynamic is far more beneficial than any generic approach.
Equally important is understanding your children. Continually strive to learn about them—“Learn your learner,” as coach Pete Carroll puts it. Strive to connect with your kids as individuals, enabling you to tailor your methods to suit each child’s personality and temperament while adhering to your overall parenting philosophy.
There’s nothing wrong with parenting based on written advice—as long as it’s your own and not someone else’s. Just remember to stay attuned to the reality of parenting, because it is in the off-paper moments that the beautiful, challenging adventure of raising kids truly unfolds.
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Summary
Parenting guides can be tempting for new parents seeking answers, but they often fall short in real-world application. Each child is unique, and what works for one may not work for another. Developing a personalized parenting philosophy rooted in your values and understanding your children is key to navigating the complexities of raising kids successfully.