Newsflash: I’m not good at parenting.
I’m bad at parenting my teenager, I am bad at parenting my 8-year-old, I am bad at parenting ADHD, I am bad at helping with homework, I am bad at staying consistent with discipline, I am bad at just about all of it.
You already know this, of course; it’s one of my calling cards. (I look like exactly Paul Rudd, I have fun with trolls, I’m not good at parenting. Those are, like, my three main things.) I’m no expert, I’m just a guy, and when I write about my experiences as a dad, I try to make it clear that I’m not here to tell anyone what to do because I have no idea what I’m doing.
But here’s parenting’s dirty little secret: it doesn’t matter!
It doesn’t matter that I’m bad at all of this, and it doesn’t matter if you are either.
You probably expect me to whine about how it doesn’t matter, how parents don’t matter, and how most of the stuff we do - all the books we read, all the expert advice we follow, all the tips friends and family give us, all the insight captured by favorite Instagrammers with best-selling books (manifesting!) - doesn’t add up to much in the long run.
And to be totally honest, it probably doesn’t; when it comes down to it, our kids have to figure out pretty much everything all by themselves.
(And even if parenting does matter, even if you somehow crack the code on raising your children into kind, smart, well-adjusted, non-Republican adults, not only will you not realize it for decades, you’ll also have no idea which book, which bit of advice, which helpful tip, which hilarious and poignant meme was the key to it all!)
But I’m not going to whine about it. Instead, I’m going the other way: you don’t actually have to be good at parenting to be a good parent!
No Experience Required, Somehow
I had no experience with children before my first was born.
I’d never changed a diaper in my life and I could count on one hand how many times I’d held a baby.
It wasn’t until I had kids of my own that I got up close and personal with the demographic and let me tell you, the learning curve was steep. So steep I’m still climbing it, thirteen years in!
Sure, I have two kids now, one of whom is a teenager, so I’ve gained a decent amount of experience—more than some, less than many, but a decent amount. About the only thing it’s taught me is that experience doesn’t matter. Parenting stays hard! It’s giving Sisyphus. (Sorry for the goofy slang; I told you I have a teenager!)
Experience is good for one thing, and that’s managing my expectations about my parenting. I’ve stopped waiting for something to click or for the heavens to part and bestow upon me the secret knowledge necessary to raise my sons correctly. The only secret knowledge I’ve gained is the wisdom of knowing that there is no secret knowledge.
This wisdom hasn’t made my day-to-day life as a dad any easier; it hasn’t calmed me down when my teen talks back or bombs a test or does some other dumb teen bullshit. But it has made me realize that no matter how much time I spend screaming into the wind, futilely hoping my kids will listen, at the end of the day there’s one thing that matters more than everything else.
this is me trying
Guess what? Your kids know even less about parenting than you do! They don’t know if you cried it out with them or if you played Mozart when they were in the womb or if you let them win at Mario Kart or if they’ve been co-sleeping for too long or if breastmilk is better than formula or any of the other parenting “controversies” out there.
But they do know if you care about them. And they can tell if you are trying. They don’t care anywhere near as much about you blowing it as much as they care that you care about blowing it. They care that you’re giving it a shot. Ever see those videos of kids lighting up when they see their parents in the crowd at a school play or recital? Just showing up is half the battle!
(Especially if you’re showing up to watch an abominable attempt at covering pop songs or hit a free throw or stage an award-winning musical or turn a double play. Sitting through that is a true sacrifice!)
Of course, when they’re little they love you no matter what, even if you don’t try at all; you just have to be there. When they’re teenagers they often seem to hate you no matter what, even if—especially if!—you try your hardest; you still have to be there, more than ever, you just can’t be loud about it, Dad, God! *eyeroll*
I may be cringe but I’m there, talking too much and yelling too much and joking too much and scolding too much and quoting movies too much and monitoring screen time too much and adding songs to playlists too much, and that matters more than almost everything else.
Oh My God! He Admit It!
When it comes to parenting, it’s better to be there than good.
Sure, my teenager has PTSD from my attempts to help him understand algebra (we both have PTSD, let’s be real), but when he’s older and he looks back—after his therapist hypnotizes him into recalling the things he’s blocked out of his mind just to function—he’ll remember all the yelling, but he’ll also remember my presence. He’ll remember that I tried. He’ll remember that I failed, badly, over and over again, but he’ll remember that I tried! (Right?!)
Most of the “good” parents I know are the first to admit that they are terrible at parenting. And that is part of what makes them better the rest. (This is me manifesting again. 😬😬😬)
Acknowledging the difficulty of the task and recognizing one’s own deficiencies at it are two of the major components of being a good parent.
The biggest one is trying anyway. (I hope! It’s pretty much all I have going for me.)
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So, true story, I despised my parents growing up. Told them so at least weekly. Then I had a baby. My parents started, slowly, getting smarter. And smarter. And now that they are older (Dad is 80, Mom is 77), I can't imagine life without them. I pretty much guarantee your kids will be the same. 😁
I think you're 100% right. One of my mottos is, "If you're asking yourself whether or not you're a good parent. You are. Those that aren't, aren't asking that."