Category: Learning
The Parent Lapse
So we have this baby gate. No, we’re not embroiled in some shocking political controversy involving a baby (Babygate, coming soon to theaters near you!), it’s an actual gate for babies.
Like all baby gates, it’s used to prevent babies (and toddlers) from getting places they shouldn’t, particularly staircases (and the Oval Office!). Having exclusively lived in urban apartments, we haven’t had that much need for it, because an apartment with stairs is not an apartment we can afford. However, for the past few months, Detective Munch has been in Grandma and Pop-pop’s house, and Grandma and Pop-pop’s house has stairs. So the baby gate was put back to work.
Except not really. Because I never close it. Because I’m a terrible father.
School of Block
When I was a kid, The Karate Kid was one of my favorite movies. If I’m totally honest, it still is. I see it listed in the channel guide and there’s no way I’m not watching the tournament.
Growing up, I was so enamored with the uplifting tale of Daniel LaRusso’s war against the neo-Nazi community of Southern California that my parents thought I might want to take karate classes. And I would have, if I hadn’t been so terrified of landing in a Cobra Kai-type school with a Vietnam-traumatized sensei who would force me to be racist and do push-ups on my knuckles.
Come on, I was like eight years old. Which I thought was a little young for martial arts. Except almost 30 years later, my son is taking them, and he’s three.
Sunday Schooled
I’ve shared my thoughts about raising Detective Munch with religion before. I’ve even discussed why he was circumcised (COME AT ME, BRO!).
But as a Catholic so lapsed the term just plain doesn’t apply anymore, I’m a little conflicted. I definitely think some of the more universal values Christianity teaches (kindness, discipline, humility) do a kid good, and despite the problematic trappings, it’s a decent delivery system for them. And yet, he’s never been to church. Until yesterday.
Growing up, I went to Church every weekend, and my parents still do. And although I’m not sure how well years of catechism and church-going and Catholic high school did me, we are currently living with my parents. And “when in Rome,” right?
So went along to Easter mass. And my son took it about as seriously as I do. Consider Sunday schooled.
Parenting Is An Experiment
Over the weekend, I read a couple of parenting articles in The New York Times.
It was some intense reading full of hardcore facts and figures and suggestions and techniques, and I came away from it thinking that I have no idea what I’m doing as a parent. Which is totally cool, because I already knew that. It helped to discover that, judging by the articles, no one else knows what they’re doing either.
But thank God I don’t believe in parenting experts because even if I did, I have no idea how I’d be expected to even remember all the so-called “best” techniques, let alone have the wherewithal and discipline to implement them. Nor would I necessarily want to.
Parenting is an experiment, but our kids shouldn’t be test subjects.