One of my periodic rants

I'm in a pissy sort of mood this evening. So annoyed that I may not even figure out the point of this entry or how to give it structure. (Although I've long held that if I went through and crossed out every other word I write, my writing would be much improved. Perhaps I should give that a try tonight.)

To make a short story long, we all attended a birthday party this afternoon. Most of the participants were from my son's preschool. Since the preschool years will be over in two days and people will begin to go their separate ways, there was a bittersweet quality about it.

Now, one thing I've learned from being at that preschool, meeting other parents, and interacting with their kids, is that many people have serious concerns about their children. They worry that something is wrong with their kids, that their kids aren't developing fast enough, that their kids will be permanently damaged if they are or aren't held back a year, et cetera. Pretty much every decision is fraught and will no doubt determine whether the kid gets accepted into Harvard in fifteen years.

My personal opinion is that we worry too damned much. We push push push the kids to do things they aren't quite developmentally ready to do, we freak out when they pick their noses or they don't quite make it to the toilet, we spend too little time letting them explore and too much time standing over them making them practice perfect penmanship.

I do think we have to set appropriate goals for kids and be responsible about consulting doctors and the like when there are concerns. However, I also suspect that many issues will resolve themselves if we simply give our kids' brains time to develop. For instance, many kids aren't ready for toilet training the instant they turn two, no matter how consistently we plop them on the pot. Instead of battling and fretting over it, why not wait three months or six months and then try again?

Evidently my view is an unpopular one, if not regarded as downright irresponsible. Today I chatted with one of the fretters. Her adopted daughter is bright and personable, if tiny and mostly non-verbal. Her mom has taken her to the doctor, to speech therapy, what-have-you. I'm not sure what else one could do. Now she's fretting about holding her daughter back in preschool a year. Well, you know my opinion: relax, keep doing what you can, and give the kid more time to develop. Kindergarten will still be there next year.

Now, this particular mother has been around my kid for a couple of years. His development hasn't been the smoothest thing in the world. If memory serves, when we first met her, he was still at the point of screaming and freaking out when I tried to take him in the school building and he was just beginning to string words together, about a year later than average. However, he'd worked past the really hellish business of screaming for hours on end when I brought him to school, or hiding under a table or a coat if people spoke to or looked at him.

A lot of this hasn't been fun, but I'm very pleased with the boy. He now loves school, "has an excellent vocabulary" (per the head of the school), fully participates in class, and gets in trouble for things like picking his nose. One of his former teachers claims that it's because my husband and I worked with him so much. We did, but I think most of the credit goes to him. He has a good heart, he tried hard, and his brain simply developed some more.

But oh, the comments people have made over the past few years. "Have you taken him to a doctor?" Duh. What do you think, dumb***? Do I strike you as the type of person to, say, deny insulin to a child with diabetes? "Did you nurse him for a long time?" Um. Why do you ask? Is this part of the popular mythology where you came from, that kids who are nursed for a long time turn out quirky? "Did you have him vaccinated? You know, those vaccinations cause autism."

Everybody has an opinion. Everybody thinks they have answers, although almost nobody does. Everybody thinks I'm a slacker parent and that if they had a shot at my kid, they'd do a better job.

So, the comment today? It was something along the lines of "Do you think you and your husband caused your son's problems with your attitudes, or was he simply made that way?"

My gut responses:

1. (Intercourse) you.

2. Gosh. What do you think? Do you seriously think I enjoyed sitting in the schoolyard for hours, dealing with a screaming, thrashing child instead of having him docilely come in the building and play with choo-choo trains? Do you think I enjoyed the stares, the idiotic comments, my personal fear that my kid wasn't going to be okay? Do you think my conscious choice to try not to freak out over the whole thing caused this situation?


I responded with a polite version of #2. Her response to that was something along the lines of "All of our decisions affect our children's futures."

Ah. The Harvard thing again. Yep, if they have lousy penmanship at age four or we get them in the wrong kindergarten, they're doomed. Probably I've already doomed my kid by serving him sharp cheddar instead of mild cheddar.

I felt like responding with:

3. Do you seriously think that parents have control of every aspect of their children's development? Are you implying that my son's development issues were because my husband I and I were negligent in some fashion?

4. I disagree. Some of the decisions we make are bound to have little or no impact. (See "sharp cheddar cheese").

5. I feel personally insulted. You have no idea who I am, what I've lived through, or what I've accomplished. You don't know the first thing about me. You should consider that when you question my methods and decisions.


Ah, well. I wish her daughter the best. She's a great kid. I hope that at some point, her mother will take a break from fretting and acknowledge the truly wonderful things about her.