The "Science" of Parenting

In our thirst for advancement we have developed a "science" for everything from medicine to manufacturing. In our professional work a growing list of certifications are necessary to stay competitive as people clamor to find the "best practices." Yet parenting, our most important work, remains largely an art rather than a science. As parents there are no formal certifications or continuing education to teach us best practices.

Parenting is a little like taking your car to the mechanic who says, "I've never done this before, let me call my mom and see if she knows what to do." It is clear that parents want their children to be happy, but few of us are sure exactly what we need to do in our own lives to achieve lasting happiness, let alone what we should do in our parenting efforts to make happiness as reality for our children.

Remembering...

I grew up in the 1970's in a town straight out of a Norman Rockwell painting. We walked to school no matter the weather. Summers were filled with games like "Kick the Can" and stick ball and when the street light came on everyone scattered for home. We mowed the lawn and weeded the garden because it was our job. We picked up pennies because you could still buy something with them. Everyone had chores on Saturday and watching a jet streak through the sky still brought a sense of awe and a feeling of pride that you were an American. We were spanked by any mother in the neighborhood and never said a word about it to our own mothers because we didn't want second licking. We gathered for dinner, prayed, and read the Bible as a family. On Sunday, the roads were empty and the churches full. Those were simpler, happier times.

Today, children car pool to school, play video games and avoid sunlight like vampires. No one looks up when a jet passes over, pennies are left on the ground, and mowing is a paid sport. Gardens are something you visit not something you grow. Dinner comes in a box with a toy on the way to another ballgame and the Bible sits on the shelf as dusty fiction. Sunday has become just another day and heaven forbid anyone lay a finger on their own children let alone anyone else's. Worse of all I'm not sure we stop running long enough to ask if we are happy or just busy? It seems to me that in working so hard to give our children everything, we have given them nothing.

I recognize that much of what I loved as a child is not coming back for me or my children, but the blessings of being a family and the truths my parents taught me must come back. Parenting cannot be a spectator sport, it demands our best efforts and depending upon our actions it promises us our greatest happiness or deepest regrets.