A lot of yelling happened in this hallway.
Dear fellow wonderer,
There’s something about the “gentle parenting” movement that really bugs me–and it’s not that it can create unrealistic outcomes, a point Emily Edlynn lays out wisely. I absolutely agree with Edlynn, but another aspect infuriates me even more.
The central guru in this movement may claim that she isn’t promoting “gentle parenting” at all, but rather, “sturdy parenting.” Whatever. What maddens me is that this guru has made parenthood seem so complicated that we can’t possibly navigate it on our own. Nope, we need “24/7 coaching” via monthly membership. We need “scripts and strategies.” We need workshops. Look at all the workshops!
At the top of the page: “You won’t be able to watch just one.”
* * *
When my oldest kid was close to three, he began having tantrums. Big, out-of-control tantrums that could go on for twenty minutes, more. This threw me for a loop–he’d been an easygoing baby! And he was generally a sweet kid, fun to be around. Energetic and chatty and curious.
He also had a very strong sense of self. He knew what he believed and around the time he was three, he must have started noticing that what he believed was not necessarily what his parents believed. One day he asked why blueberries were blue. He was not satisfied with my explanation. This was a very long time ago, understand, before we had a computer with internet access. I couldn’t just google up this. My half-baked explanations weren’t cutting it so I tried this: “Well, I guess God just made them that way.”
“THAT’S NOT WHY!” he hollered. And then proceeded to scream and kick and throw things for the next twenty minutes. Until he collapsed in my arms, sweaty-headed and exhausted.
* * *
I’ve written before about the 1990s rise of formulaic parenting “expertise.” A shift kicked off by business gurus and evangelical preachers getting into the parenting expertise space–promoting corporal punishment and feeding schedules so strict that the American Academy of Pediatrics warned against their practices. Soon many of the more “child-centered” “experts” followed formulaic suit. Penelope Leach. Dr. T. Berry Brazelton. Attachment parenting proponents Dr. William Sears and his wife Martha Sears. (I have so many thoughts about Dr. Sears!) All began promoting more complicated, didactic parenting methods.
Here’s why the history matters: this shift toward formulaic expertise coincided precisely with the rise of the internet. Suddenly these “experts” could sell more than books. They could sell planners and magazines and videos and software–plus whatever random stuff the websites–where they were newly “experting”–were shilling.
I’ve said this before and I’ll keep saying it. Once “experts” have something to sell, they want you to keep coming back to buy what they’re selling. And the best way to keep you coming back is to make their “expertise” so systematic and complicated that you can’t figure it out on your own.
* * *
I can’t imagine what would have happened if I tried one of those “sturdy parenting” scripts on my oldest. This kid was savvy and arrived with an incredibly fine-tuned BS detector. (See: THAT’S NOT WHY!) If I’d ever said something that didn’t sound like myself, something that sounded even slightly patronizing along the lines of, “I can see you’re really frustrated,” he would have responded with the three-year-old’s version of No shit, Sherlock!
And then he would have gone ballistic for the next twenty minutes.
No books back then had advice that made sense to me. I had to find my own way with this kid. Usually that meant staying nearby so he wouldn’t hurt himself or break something. (I wasn’t always successful with this. Two different French window panes did not survive this era.) I learned not to speak because it only made him madder. And let me tell you: I was mad too! That a kid could get set off and monopolize our time like this! But I could sense that he wasn’t trying to manipulate me–he was going through something intense and I just needed to be there for him. And so I stayed.
* * *
That 1990s rise in parenting “expertise”–and I apologize for constantly putting that word in quotes; you may sense by now that I have issues with self-proclaimed experts–has only intensified in the decades since.
Selling books isn’t enough for today’s “experts.” And I get it–it’s nearly impossible now to make a living selling books. But this drive to make money through 24/7 coaching and “scripts and strategies” and workshops comes at a cost that isn’t just financial.
I believe it’s keeping parents from finding confidence in their own way.
Parents today–mothers especially–are bombarded with messages about how to do parenthood right. I don’t need to tell you that it’s rampant on social media, and not just from “experts” and influencers. There’s also judgment in those spaces from other mothers convinced that they’re doing motherhood better. Emily Edlynn writes, “The Instagram success of parenting memes promoting gentle parenting principles depresses me. Low on nuance and high on shame induction, these pithy posts can get thousands of likes and shares.”
Research tells us that almost 70% of parents say that parenthood is harder today than it was twenty years ago. Many older parents quibble and say parenthood has always been hard.
I stand with the 70%. Parenthood today is harder. The list of reasons is long: financial insecurity, political upheaval, smart phones, climate crisis, AI, childcare costs, college costs, etc. etc etc. And I would add: the amped-up pressures on mothers to navigate all of this right.
And that’s when the “experts” show up with their workshops.
“You won’t be able to watch just one.”
* * *
As my kid got older, the tantrums changed–but the emotional outbursts continued.
Yet these outbursts were never cliche meltdowns about not getting something he wanted. They were almost always over concepts deep and philosophical. Him feeling like he was being treated unfairly. Like he wasn’t being granted the agency he thought he should have. Nearly every time he exploded, after the storm had passed, I’d think: Wow. He has a point.
I admit: I often lost it right along with him. It made me nuts that if something set him off, an entire afternoon could get undermined. I’d try to stay calm, but we were homeschooling at this time and if he got upset and stomped off, you could bet I’d stomp and holler after him.
Then I’d feel terrible about how I’d handled things. I’d created a home where my kid yelled at me and I yelled back. This was the era of Nonviolent Communication–a sort of precursor to gentle parenting–and my kid and I yelled at each other! I’d apologize, he’d apologize, but still, I felt like I was failing somehow.
One day I discovered a book, The Explosive Child, by Ross W. Greene. The subtitle itself was a wonder to me: A New Approach for Understanding and Parenting Easily Frustrated, Chronically Inflexible Children.
Easily frustrated! Chronically inflexible! Reading the book, I began to comprehend how these two particular tendencies came together in my kid and fueled his outbursts. (My husband and I joke sheepishly that the kid got his explosiveness from his dad and his chronic inflexibility from me. Combustible combo!) Of course I sensed all of this, but having someone pinpoint the difficulty of this specific combination helped me understand my kid and have more empathy for him.
The book helped me grasp that it might not be so terrible that my kid yelled. That if he hollered cruel things he didn’t mean, it was okay to let it go until he was calmer. Thing is: this is what I’d learned to do with him on my own–but I often felt guilty about it. Who lets their kid yell at them? The book gave me perspective on our interactions and validated what I was already doing, unconventional as it might have seemed to others.
I never reread the book after that. It had given me confidence in what I’d figured out on my own. We were finding our own way, and I didn’t need formulas or coaching to keep us going.
The kid grew out of the outbursts, but not the finely-tuned BS detector. It’s one of his qualities that I love best.
* * *
You are a unique, quirky, imperfect person. Your child is a unique, quirky, imperfect person. That particular relationship has never before existed in history and you are the expert on it. (When the kid hollers, “THAT’S NOT WHY!” you may learn not to give him half-baked explanations.)
All of those small, gigantic moments help us understand what our kid needs, what we need. And sometimes what’s needed is not what everyone around us is doing.
Yes, I believe it’s important to learn and grow as a parent. Yes, I believe we should consult wise people, in the world and in our circles.
What enrages me is “experts” who promote complex systems that will supposedly make parenthood easier. What if the opposite is true? What if these experts have actually complicated parenthood in their drive to make a buck?
I know I’ve said it again and again, and this surely won’t be the last time (it’s the lesson I’ve had to keep learning!) but I worry that it’s harder than ever for parents to hear their intuition. To make choices based on their lived experience, their relationship with their child, their own missteps and victories.
When it’s hard, a book can help. A podcast can resonate. But if a small voice inside of you bristles at the system some “expert” is selling, if it questions whether you really should enter your credit card into that monthly membership portal, maybe take a minute and listen.
xo,
Patricia
If you’re local to the Bay Area, the next session of my FREE monthly morning reading series for caregivers at Oakland’s Local Economy will be with local writer Tomas Moniz and his novel All Friends Are Necessary. This is our first foray into fiction and it should be fun! Read the book ahead of time if you can and sign up here. And remember: babies are entirely welcomed, but not required! Wednesday, December 10, 10:00-11:00.
cross-posted on Substack.