Our Kids Will Always Need Therapy. And It’s Okay.

My stern great-grandmother came from Copenhagen around 1890 and married a stern Welsh potato farmer in Northern Maine.  Katinka assimilated totally; they spoke no Danish, celebrated no Danish holidays, ate no Danish foods.  Children were to be seen and not heard.  My potato farmer grandfather Percival (her son), was equally stern.

He mostly repeated the family pattern, and almost finished his job doing so before big cultural changes came.  His children were born at the end of World War II and were young adults in the 60s.  The peaceniks and free love revolution didn’t quite infiltrate rural Northern Maine.  Percy’s kids (my dad and uncles) had farm exemptions from service in Viet Nam; they worked HARD.  They planted, tended, and picked potatoes. They may not have worn beads and protested, but they played HARD. They rigged their cars’ windshield washers to dispense moonshine into their glove boxes and started families earlier than planned.  Ahem.

They really failed at being seen and not heard. Gloriously.  Their kids, my cousins and I, were not expected to be seen and not heard.  We went on family camping trips and had big raucous Thanksgivings.  But still, we were not invited to speak. I’ve had to learn, as a person, to speak up — and unlearn, as a parent, speaki17105275_10156068423693916_1637972395_nng for or over my kids.

Big cultural changes happen quickly now, generation after generation.  Baby boomers, peaceniks, yuppies, gen Xers, generation Y, millenials — technology, gender roles, economic opportunities, the changing shape of the family.

What we learned about parenting, from our parents, is dated.  Historical trends in parenting have changed quickly, and in the last decades they have multiplied, too.  There’s not just Doctor Spock followed by Dr. Sears.  There’s permissive, free range, attachment, mindful, and authoritarian parenting.  And there’s more: religious (conservative or reform?), Adlerian, gender-neutral, tiger moms, geek dads… you see.

Best practices seem to change with the release of each new study.  New digital technologies mean we fly by the seats of our pants.  There’s no way a parent can stay ahead of it all.

But one thing remains steady — when kids, teens, and young adults misbehave, parents are first in the line of blame — l17101738_10156067620438916_1980051568_n.jpgike we operate in a vacuum.  The stakes feel high, and they are. Parents, kids, schools, and the culture at large see parents as responsible for their children’s behavior.

We simply cannot do it “right.” With high stakes, shifting criteria, changing terrain (new technologies, family shape), how could we?  How can we do those “best practices” about to be announced?  I always joked that my kids will need therapy because the standards of parenting change every decade.

But it’s true.

So when we need to course-correct in the funnerfamily, we get an outside contractor  —  a professional to survey the situation, advise, and help make new supports.   Honestly, sometimes we are late to the game.  Like we should have called in a pro six months ago!  haha.  But better late than never.

Often when I tell someone we are seeing a therapist, they respond with pity or sadness or some version of “this too shall pass.”  I think that’s the wrong attitude, frankly.  “The family” and its day to day decision making, traditions, and comforts, just doesn’t move at the same speed, or with the same agenda, as “the culture” with its press toward novelty and innovation.  Bridging the gap requires outside resources!  Haha…

My kids need an orthodontist, I’m not going to even think about doing THAT myself.  I don’t want to be in charge of EVERYTHING!  Our kids need experts.  I’d like to see our kids  invited to speak, and I for one need someone to paint some lines on the road so that I can stay in between “seen and not heard” and “the kids are in charge.”  We will always need professionals — they help me invite my kids to speak.  Our kids will always need therapy… and it’s okay.

I would love to hear about something you wish you had learned earlier, or could unlearn.  Or that your parents had unlearned.  Comment here, and let’s move forward together.  ❤

Let’s get your Butterfly to eat! Join me.

I drove Thing 2 to an all-day, picnic-style birthday party in a pavilion at our local city park. Perfect weather, crisp warm end-of-summer air, tall trees, and happy noises from other picnic table pavilions.  Bliss.

While a small cadre of tween girls ran through the playground from swing to swing to slide to climber to carousel

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Kids won’t eat any of this?  Tune in for help! Click HERE to register.

….one mom watched her lithe, sinewy butterfly of a girl and said wistfully: I hope she eats.

I wanted to curl my arm around her and bring her peace.

I’m inviting you.

Click to tweet:twitter-128 Bring me your sinewy butterflies, your picky little birds, your thoughtful dreamers with no interest in food… come, let’s build peace of mind.

This free talk is focused on you, mom.  And your picky eater.

I’m a cultural educator and a coach for moms — and I want you to know about my webinar on Parenting Picky Eaters. Sign up for my in-depth webinar  about picky eating here and learn the phrase that stops family dinner fights in their tracks.

If we think about families as microcultures, then we can see that we have some influence over this little culture’s language, entertainment, worship, and… food, on my talk, I’ll discuss incorporating food as part of your family culture, whatever your style.

And, on the  webinar you will learn the four words that are setting you up for failure.  Food struggle is awful.  Let’s find some comfortable ways to feed those pesky picky eaters.

I have very strong feelings about moms of picky eaters.  We live in a modern age where it’s actually a chore to shop for healthy foods if you happen to wander out of the produce department. And there’s momguilt.  There’s lots of momguilt, charging we need to take responsibility for diabetes, behaviors and socializing, and even health of the future.  It’s the perfect storm, babe. So join me Thursday or Sunday evening for some guilt-squashing.  Just sign up here.  It’s free!

 

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