About 4 years ago, after messing up movie showtimes and missing our movie date, Brian and I, with nothing else to do, stumbled into an open house up the street from where we were currently renting. Having recently decided to sell our home in a neighborhood rich in beauty and history, but also rich in prostitution, theft, and “homemade” fireworks displays, we were eager to look for a home in a neighborhood more suitable for the family we hoped to grow. Thrilled with the open house, we put in an offer that afternoon and a month later, we moved into our new home. Even with the ridiculous property tax rates and the laundry list of rules including but not limited to a dress code for lawn mowing, we felt excited to be a part of a community that always makes the list for best schools in the nation and where neighbors don’t lock their doors. We could rest easy knowing that our children would be safe and well-educated.
But recently, I’ve had conversations with trusted friends whose children are older than my own who talk about the daily challenges of adolescent parenting. This is the stuff nightmares are made of, people. They talked about how it’s impossible for their children to play sports for their school because their peers’ parents hired personal trainers for their children starting at age 6. They talked about homework demands and that between math tutors and English projects, they barely have time to eat a meal as a family let alone for their children to play or get to bed on time. They talked about the expectations of “things” such as finished basements, iPhones, streaming devices, and gaming systems and that kids don’t want to “hang out” at the houses of parents who don’t have all the latest gadgets and gizmos. What happened to the days of sleepovers where you froze your friend’s bra and ate cookie dough until you were sick? What happened to playing night games with your friends in the connecting backyards in the glow of fireflies and the summer moon? My gut just feels sick thinking about the demands and expectations that my children will face as they grow up.
It makes me think that maybe I don’t want “the best” for my children. Maybe I don’t want them to attend the best schools where they will surely receive an education that’s second to none, but perhaps at the cost of precious family time in the years leading up to college. Maybe I don’t want to live in a community that’s so affluent that my children end up at sleepovers in the homes of parents who have stocked bars and movie theaters in their basements. I don’t want my children to enter the world with the idea that they are owed anything and everything that their hearts desire.
I’m not naive enough to believe that there is a perfect community out there where the parents of my children’s friends all have the same values and beliefs that we hold or where they won’t feel the pressure to be smarter, skinnier, faster, or more grown up. There’s this rub as a parent knowing that it’s important for your children to have broken hearts, to hear the word “no,” and to face the consequences of their poor decisions, but still wanting to protect them from hurt and harm wherever possible.
Ellie is still little, and we have some time before we make any big decisions. But even as the parent of a 20 month old, I already feel the pressure to provide the “very best” for my child. From the kinds of food I feed her, to what activities she participates in, to what brands of clothing she wears, to the amount of “screen time” she’s exposed to daily….the message is clear. Your children deserve the very best and as a parent it’s your job to make sure that’s what they’re receiving.
But what if it wasn’t true? What if there was another way? What if we put more value on growing our faith and family than on education? What if our children’s weekly “activities” included running around outside with their friends instead of running from school to practice and tutoring? What if we spent less money on things that entertain our children and give them status and invested our time with them instead? What if we as parents were more flexible and forgiving of ourselves rather than filling our days with worry and pressure to be the best?
What if “good” was even better than “best?”
Life After Birth 