Experts?

At a professional job, you can sort of gloss over the days when you get tired or angry and you just sit and surf the web. Similar sorts of days as a parent often involve a beloved person having some need unmet or feelings hurt or something equally at odds with parental dreams.

And I was always a sort of mellow, live and let live crunchy Takoma Park guy; being a parent has activated a strangely harsh but prompt inner Prussian (I am descended from a long line of German stay at home parents). I have been known to say that we may not be happy, but jeezy petes we are going to be on time. (Even this will make all my friends laugh, as my whole family is notorious for being late; then we are unhappy, late and at times feeling like failures.)

I'm not really sure that I believe in parental expertise as a real thing. (I do have to make an exception for Emory Luce Baldwin, as my wife and I often quote her Voice column to one another to definitely settle points of dispute.) Most of the really influential child rearing books foster the idea of trusting your own feelings about a matter (even my Mom's Dr. Spock, which I stole when my daughter was born). Solutions that work for one child or one parent won't necessarily work for another (they often do, that's why parents are so chatty, we all hope to either brag over or copy useful strategies). The most important thing I learned in the first few years of parenting was to pay attention to the actual concrete child in front of me. One can read about the importance of a regular routine, and it makes sense on the face of it. But the ability to look at my child, and know that she runs in circles when she's tired, or that he rubs his nose when he's tired, that's the whole game.

For my two year old, sometimes that shouted "no" means "I'm in charge, but those blue berries would be nice in a minute." Sometimes it means, "No, I'm still upset over the keys!" and sometimes it means "I don't want them in that bowl, I want them in the plastic container!" These nuances aren't universals, they are specific to my son, and even to the moment.

Even something as obvious as "taking care of yourself" isn't a no-brainer. It's a no-brainer that parents need to do this, sure, but what this means for me can't be found in a book. I never liked waking early before we had kids, but now I find my most refreshing moments are alone in the early dawn reading or bathing, drinking my tea. Not something I could have anticipated I'd find useful.

The interesting thing is that despite the specific faults and trickiness of it all, that things end up being ok. My kids know what it's like to have me, as I actually am, as a parent. Imperfect, but good enough for the day. And that's a miracle.