Driving Miss Cranky

There are moments in motherhood that they don’t tell you about when you’re all glowy and postpartemy. If they did, you might just hand the baby back and say: “You know what, thanks, but I guess I’ll pass.”

Those moments are the ones when you do a gut check and say to yourself: “I don’t think I can do this. I have no clue what to do next.”

Motherhood has no instruction manual. In fact, I’d liken the moment that they hand that beautiful, stunning child to you, to the moment you pass your driver’s test. (Something for which there is an instruction manual. Hmm…that’s ironic, isn’t it?) In the blink of an eye, you go from something you wished for, hoped for, worked for, to a moment where you look at people and say: “Wait, what? Seriously? I’m not sure I’m ready for this.”

Of course you’re all madly in love and wanting to show off the world’s most beautiful child. But deep inside, there’s that nagging hint of doubt that makes you wonder just a teeny bit whether that potential to screw this thing up will ever present itself.

And as the child grows, and little things happen, you wonder again: “Do I have the right stuff?” Or, you think the way I do: “WWCBD (What would Carol Brady do?)”

Growing up, glued to the TV set, I thought the Brady Bunch’s Carol Brady was my maternal idol. When she wasn’t rockin’ her shag hairdo or cutting flowers while gazing at her artificial lawn, she was dispensing incredible nuggets of wisdom to her beautiful, blended family. While Alice did all the real work, Carol stirred something in a pot (making us think she actually cooked) and then had time to sit with the kids while they ate their wholesome after-school snack.

As a naïve and impressionable child, I just assumed that I would parent the way that Carol Brady parented – with style and grace and a kick-ass housekeeper.

Big surprise, Carol and Alice were pure fiction. The only way to really be a parent is to roll up your sleeves and get dirty. Sometimes horribly dirty. To be there when the kids come home and fall apart. To NOT have all the answers and to question virtually everything that you and your kids do. To discipline and be hated for it…but to still be there the next morning. To lose sleep because you let your mind wander to the worst-case scenario.

Truth be told, I tend to be kind of a negative person. If I’ve made a decision, I’m often guessing it’s the wrong one. I just assume that every other mom has cooked and cleaned and parented better than I have. But once in a while, my kids will do something that gives me a glimmer of hope. They make me feel, in that moment, that even if I don’t have the right stuff, at least they do. And to me, that’s good enough.

You have to hand it to infants. They’ve figured it out. It’s all about them and, most importantly, they actually get to act their age. What about six year-olds, you’re asking? Or seven or eight year-olds? Nope, not them. They already have to worry about what will happen when they’re twelve. And fifteen year-olds? Well, they have to worry about what to do for the rest of their lives.

What the heck am I talking about? It’s my latest gripe. I call it: “When do kids get to be kids?”

Through the years, I’ve encountered it here and there. Mild concerns about how old my kids were when they walked. Were their vocabularies broad enough? Will their skills and talents be enough to carry them to the next level?

But recently, it really hit me hard. I have a second child going through the rigors of high school. Folks, let me tell you, the days of enjoying high school are SO yesterday. The typical high school student isn’t hanging out at the soda shop after school, socializing with his or her friends. They’re scheduled from dawn till dark, filling out that high school resume.

Today high school academics are all about AP Classes, as in Advanced Placement. Ask any above-average high school student and they’ll tell you. Either they, or their parents, are worried about taking and doing well in Advanced Placement Classes which potentially earn them college credits. In other words, high school kids are starting college in high school. Is it so wrong to just be an average student?

Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m not against bright and talented kids. I think every child has the right to take as many high level classes they can in order to remain challenged. But nowadays, we’re expecting that from EVERY kid. I’ve sat through parent meetings where parents have actually asked why their kids can’t take THREE AP classes in the same semester. Seriously.

To me, this begs the question: When do our kids just get to be where they are and act their age? When do they get to enjoy life?

And it’s not just high school. It starts in grade school where parents obsess about sending their kids to the right school and then “helicopter parent” their kids’ academics until the teachers aren’t sure whether they’re teaching the children or their parents.

It starts in athletics with select sports and getting on the right club team in order to be considered for scholarships or even just to try out for their own school’s team. It starts in the performing arts where kids have to have THE right teacher and be in THE right program so they can eventually perform at the highest level.

In this day and age of living vicariously through our children, we’ve somehow stolen their right to let them be themselves and discover their passions the old-fashioned way – through trial and error. Through failures and the rare success. Instead, we’re going out of our way to insure success.

Which brings me back to babies. Although we try, babies are relatively immune to our attempts to make them do anything faster than they’re able. Sure, you can sign them up for classes, you can practice with them hourly, but if they’re not ready to sit up or crawl or sleep through the night or be potty trained, they’re not going to do it. And that’s OK. And that’s the way it should be…for all kids.

How many is enough? At what point and when do you realize you are finished having children?

For some women, thanks to infertility, they don’t even get the luxury of that question. For others, it’s a concern weighted by elements such as health, family dynamics, faith or  finances.

When I was a young, unmarried woman, I thought that I wanted a big family. My sister, who is 13 years younger than me, was an infant during my adolescent years. To me, taking care of a baby was fun!

Fast-forward to marriage to a guy from a very large family (9 children.) I figured they’d give me the secrets to parenting a large clan. Alas, they didn’t, and eventually, we figured out that a large family wasn’t what we, or God, had in mind for our lives. (Turns out that while I was a snoozing teenager, my mom spent many days and nights working VERY hard taking care of my sister.)

On the other end of the spectrum, you have people like the Duggar family in Arkansas who are currently pregnant with their 18^th child. Yes, I said 18. And it will be no surprise when I tell you that they are getting their own reality show. (Click here to read about it.)

It was interesting reading the comments from readers under that article. Some people were outraged and downright indignant.

I don’t know about you, but I worry more about teenage girls having babies than a seemingly stable couple whose house may be bursting at the seams. Who am I to say how many kids are right for them? I think they’re crazy and I’m kinda worried about that mom’s long-term health, but it’s their choice.

What do you think? Do you agree with their choice to have such a large family? If not, does it make you angry? I admit that I'll be watching to see how they manage...to stay sane! Share your comments below or e-mail me at misscrankyblog@yahoo.com .

OK, I’m going to try and bring this up as nicely as I can. And, I’m going to try to remember that I am not and was not a perfect parent at any point of my life. And….I’m going to do my best not to offend every mother in Milwaukee. (Although, hey, maybe I’ll actually get a comment or two – bonus!) OK, here goes:

I think parents today are too permissive. I think their kids are riding roughshod all over them. The inmates are running the asylum.

A case in point: The other night, my husband and I treated ourselves to a movie and dinner. We ate at a nice restaurant in a nice neighborhood. Although we were not really dressed up, some people were. In my book, that means be on your best behavior – i.e. don’t bother those around you.

There were a couple of families there. And, apparently, in one of the rooms, there was a piano. I didn’t think anything of either the kids or the piano until they met. Suddenly, all of us were treated to somebody’s piano recital. Somebody’s beginning piano recital. I know this because I remember when my kids played those exact songs exactly just as badly.

I think kids and pianos are fabulous, just not in a restaurant where soft music is already being played over the sound system. I tried to relax and tune it out, but it was impossible. It went on for about 15 to 20 minutes. My husband went to the restroom and said upon his return that it was a very young child and her beaming mother. I’m sure she was proud of her child, but why does that have to interrupt everyone else’s nice quiet dinner? I don't think that child was exhibiting bad behavior, but it just didn't seem the right place or the right time for her to tickle the ivories.

But bad behavior is in other places. It’s in churches and stores and malls. Kids are running and jumping and screaming and the parents seem completely oblivious. I know full well how tough it is to control young kids, but lately, it seems like nobody is even trying. It’s as if they’re afraid to say no to the kids.

I have lots of memories of eating at restaurants and sitting outside the front door or in the waiting area because my then-toddler wasn’t behaving. My husband and I would tag-team it, rather than bothering the other patrons. The crying room at church was practically my second home. And I have a great story about a trip to the mall that lasted all of three minutes, thanks to my daughter and one of her many early temper tantrums.

My philosophy then was not to subject others to my kids’ poor behavior. Nowadays, it seems like more parents prefer to negotiate with their kids and the rest of us have to deal with it. Hardly seems fair or polite.

What do you think? Are today’s kids well-behaved or are they out of control? Is the art of being considerate toward others no longer part of our manners? Or am I just being Miss Cranky once again? (It wouldn’t be the first time!)