Cross-posted from the Chicago Moms Blog

When I became a mom over ten years ago, I had guilt. Plenty of guilt.

I’m not going to try to pretend like I’m beyond all that guilt stuff now that I’ve been at this parenting gig for a while. Now my guilt tends to be over different issues, like schooling, or whether I’m ruining my kids by letting them play video games.

But I really don’t remember what I felt guilty about back then, because I think it wasn’t all the same stuff parents are feeling guilty about now.

See, there were different books out then.

I run a new mom’s group here in Chicago, and at first I was amazed by the number of times two issues come up: sleep training and "tummy time". Of course people had opinions about sleep issues when my first son was born, but I don’t think the debate was anywhere near the same intensity as it is now. And tummy time? I don’t even think that phrase had entered my vernacular ten years ago. Certainly I didn’t worry that my newborn’s head would become misshapen if I didn’t put him face down on the floor for the requisite ten to twenty minutes each day (whether he liked it or not.)

So I was puzzled at first over why these issues kept coming up over and over–but then I took a trip to the bookstore. Glancing at the magazine rack, I counted a staggering number of coverlines (you know, those teasers on the magazine cover created to entice you to pick up the mag) that dealt with sleep: is your baby getting enough?  Should you let him cry it out? Is it safe to sleep with your baby? What about SIDS? Is your baby sleep deprived? Is your baby napping enough? Heck, I’d even written one of them.

Flipping through some magazines I saw plenty of mentions of tummy time, how important it is and how you should do it. I also saw many products advertised in the pages, designed to encourage tummy time or give your baby something to do during tummy time.

I walked to the parenting section and again, noticed that there were a large number of books dealing with sleep. Why you should sleep train, why you shouldn’t sleep train, how to sleep train, how to get a good night’s sleep even if you don’t sleep train, and so on and so forth. I don’t remember there being nearly as many sleep titles back when I had my first child. And by the time it became the hot new issue, I’d already figured sleep out for our family, for better or worse.

NOW it made sense. When you’re reading about something every time you open a magazine or browse at the bookstore, of course it’s going to rise in importance in your mind. And the more magazine covers and book titles are devoted to a specific topic, the more parents are going to talk about it, and the more they’ll start asking their pediatricians about it, and the more those pediatricians will start forming their own opinions (and perhaps write their own books) about it, and so on and so forth. A trend is born, the books continue to sell and make lots of money for the publishers, who in turn publish more books on the same topic, which leads to more magazine articles, and so on and so forth. And the unfortunate side effect is mommy/parent guilt, a lot of it unnecessary. 

I think a certain amount of guilt is necessary. It can act as a powerful motivator to let us know when something is off in our parenting, relationships,or other parts of our life. It’s okay not to be a supermom or an earth mother, but we all need some standards. Though I do believe that any number of choices can work and result in happy, healthy kids, I don’t believe all choices are equal and I think we’re fooling ourselves if we try to pretend that "whatever is easiest at the time" is an effective parenting philosophy. Hey, I fall into it sometimes, as do all moms, I think, and there’s certainly no point in beating myself up. But that little twinge of guilt is often what I need to get back on track.

At the same time, we need to realize that today’s hot new topic is probably not as fraught with importance as it’s been made to seem. We need to understand that the reason it seems like all the parents around us are anxious about the same things around the same time has a lot to do with what we’re being sold (whether it’s books, magazine articles or products) at any given time. You think that information you’re getting from a magazine article or book is totally unbiased? Take it from somebody who writes them–it’s not. Magazine articles often base their information on press releases, new studies (which will be refuted in two months by another study) and experts with an agenda. Very often, books receive little to no fact-checking and are based on those same studies and agendas. Again, there are some gems and good, solid information out there, and as an author and writer I’d be out of a job if everybody suddenly stopped reading parenting books and articles, so I’m not suggesting that you do that (goodness no! Then I’d have something else to feel guilty about!) but a heavy dose of skepticism is always in order, no matter what is is you’re reading.

It’s also important to keep in mind that when a health or medical organization comes out with a recommendation, they aren’t necessarily talking directly to you. They are talking to the public at large. Something can be important from a public health perspective, but not be a matter of life or death if it doesn’t work out for your particular family or baby. I’m thinking especially of tummy time, here. How many babies do you know, in your circle of mom friends, who spend all their time on their backs? When I’m with a group of moms, I see those mothers holding their babies face-down across their laps, walking to and fro with the baby tummy-down on a forearm, or letting the baby lean on her chest (again, tummy down). I see babies learning to exert control over their heads and necks and explore the space around them. Sure, if your baby spends most of his day laying in a crib or reclining in a seat, maybe this is something you need to worry about. Otherwise, is it worth feeling guilty over?

I tend to think not. Take it from me: authors don’t know everything (they’re humans with opinions just like anyone else), magazines don’t know everything (at many of the top parenting magazines, plenty of the editors aren’t even parents. That doesn’t mean they aren’t good at their jobs, of course, but I have seen how it can bias the way they choose and edit the stories that make it into their publications). Journalists and reporters don’t know everything, and we come to stories with our own biases and sometimes flawed information. Studies aren’t infallible. Parenting is too complicated for a set of inflexible rules.

We can’t get it right all of the time, but if we get it right even most of the time, our kids will be fine in the end. Or maybe they won’t, but even then it’s probably not something we could have prevented. As Andrea O’Reilly once told me in an interview, "Motherhood is the only job where you can do everything right, everything by the book, and still fail in the end." Depressing, maybe, but also freeing. The decisions we make from day to day maybe aren’t quite as crucial as we think they are. We aren’t doing the right thing as parents because we’re hoping for a specific outcome, but because it feels like the right thing to do.

So think things through, use you common sense and best judgment, and take it easy on yourself when you realize that a decision you made maybe wasn’t the best. It happens to us all, over and over again–the important thing is that we can admit (if only to ourselves, and maybe our kids) when we’re wrong and try to make a better choice next time. When you hear that guilty little voice, take a moment to listen to it, decide if it’s got a strong enough point, and if not, ignore it.

And if you’re a mom who’s worried about sleep or tummy time, take it from me: You can relax. In five years, everyone will be worried about something else entirely. Maybe we’ll be back to orthopedic shoes?

right now all four of them are in the bathtub. Okay, only three (10, 8, and 2) are actually in the tub, and the four-year-old is playing next to the tub. The older two are keeping up a steady stream of chatter about random school events and other things, and Owen, the two-year-old, is repeating over and over again: “What you guys TALKING about? What you guys TALKING about?”

This is why I find having four sons tiresome…as soon as I typed that, Owen decided to throw a large cup of water at my (fully-clothed) four-year-old.

Here’s my latest column, in which I address the Jolie=baby-collecting maniac and kids=drudgery issues:

recently read an article on ABCNEWS.com claiming that Angelina Jolie, who by all visual evidence will soon be celebrating the birth of her fifth child (second biological), is a “compulsive mother,” driven to parenthood as a way to self-medicate and escape her “inner emptiness.”

“Mother Earth” types like Jolie and Mia Farrow (who has 14 children, some of whom are adopted), the story claimed, are often just hiding deep depression and feelings of emptiness behind domesticity and child-rearing. The implication? Having kids isn’t “real life,” it’s just a way to escape from it for a while.

After puzzling over that logic for a while, I was treated to yet another anti-breeding viewpoint: an article in Reason Magazine, by “voluntarily child-free” writer Ronald Bailey, suggests that the reason people no longer tend to have lots of kids (or in many cases, any kids at all) is that child-rearing is a grisly chore, and people don’t like children.

The article quotes psychologist and “happiness researcher” Daniel Gilbert, whose research shows that people “derive more satisfaction from eating, exercising, shopping, napping or watching television than taking care of their kids,” and that taking care of children is seen to be only marginally more pleasant than doing housework.

Not only are most parents miserable, asserts the article, but we lie about it, too: “Gilbert suggests that people claim their kids are their chief source of happiness largely because it’s what they are expected to say.”

I have no doubt that there are parents who reflexively rank parenthood as their No. 1 joy in life because they think they’re supposed to. On the other hand, there’s a big difference between finding happiness in parenting and finding happiness in every minute of every day spent caring for kids. Parenthood can be intense and exhausting, hilarious and tedious, all in the same day; and 1-year-olds don’t always make the best conversationalists. But the satisfaction of parenthood isn’t something you can take apart, rating each little task to come up with an average “happiness score.” Like all relationships, raising kids is too complex for that.

So why do we question the motives surrounding the decision to have children (or not) with so much more skepticism than we do other decisions? If a celebrity had a large circle of friends, no armchair psychologist would bother to question whether she was trying to “fill a void” with companionship. It would instead be accepted that creating relationships with other human beings is a normal, natural and human desire. On the other hand, I’m getting the feeling that these people wouldn’t believe me if I told them I genuinely enjoy my children … most of the time.

Sure, some days I might rate taking a nap or watching a favorite TV show higher on the satisfaction-o-meter than changing a diaper or even pushing a swing (for the 18 zillionth time). But at some point, a life of nothing but “satisfying activities” could get pretty boring. I believe that most people, whether they have or want kids or not, are looking for something more substantial.

The point of having children isn’t just to make yourself happy, though our “me” culture certainly tries to tell us so. Fulfillment comes from adding value to the world we live in and learning about giving, self-sacrifice and putting another person’s needs above our own. There are lots of ways to give back to the world, and I don’t mind at all if somebody chooses not to have kids. But please don’t find me naïve if I assert that having children has added much more to my life than it’s taken away.

Finding fulfillment as a mom - even a mom of many - doesn’t mean I’m compulsive, avoiding life, trying to re-define myself, seeking attention, mentally ill or one-dimensional. It simply means I love my kids, even on the days I don’t like all the work that comes along with them, and I find that having them in my life is rewarding.

A lot more rewarding than a lifetime full of nothing but naps and television, anyway.

this column is angry, but brilliant. (thanks for the link, Toni.)

My favorite line: Maybe what bothers me is how Carpe Diem Syndrome is just half of the game. Or a tenth. Hundredth. Because, the truth is, you could eat at every restaurant in the world and see every exotic wonderland and view a million great works of art and still be quite the miserable, spiritually vacant, neoconservative jackass with a world-class photo album and the soul of a cockroach. Ain’t it the truth?

His theory applies not just to life, but to parenting, too, doesn’t it? Because we can crank out kids with high GPAs and test scores, straight teeth, and flawless public behavior; we can take them to all the right classes and put them in the right enrichment activities and stock their bookshelves with the right titles and get them in the right preschool program; we can make sure they’ve been exposed to classical music and ethnic foods and art and exotic locales in their formative years; but if we don’t dig a little deeper, we can still raise “miserable, spiritually vacant jackasses with a world-class photo album and the soul of a cockroach.”

Along those lines, this week at largerfamilies.com we’re posing the question: If you could pick just one quality or trait for your children to possess (i.e. compassion, a sense of humor, honesty, etc) what would it be, and why? I’d love to hear which qualities make the top of YOUR personal wish list for your kids.

A recent article in Reason Magazine suggests that the reason people are having smaller families is that caring for kids is a big bummer. I posted about it over at largerfamilies.com this week and got some thought-provoking responses. What do you think? My column this week will address this issue in more depth, so look for it on Wednesday.

My latest column…

Since having kids, we’ve tossed around the idea of getting a puppy or kitten a few times, but have always decided against it once we consider all the factors: fur everywhere, litter-training or house-training, obedience training. (Hey, at least babies use diapers, toddlers don’t shed all over the sofa, and kids rarely jump up on strangers or chase squirrels into the middle of the street.) I still like animals, but just didn’t feel up to the task of combining kids and pets.

But as it turns out, I can have both, wrapped up into a cute little blonde package. My 4-year-old son William has decided that he is a cat.

At first, it was cute. “Not William - I’m KITTY,” he would protest when I called him to dinner. The fact that he pronounces his “K” like a “T” added to our amusement.

When he began asking for his dinners in a bowl on the floor, I obliged his whim, happy to encourage his imagination. I scratched his head when he bumped it against my hand (for a kid who’s never had a pet, he sure has a cat’s mannerisms down). I carried on conversations with him in which his end sounded something like “Meow meow me want meow chocolate meow meow chip meow cookie!”

And somewhere along the way - I think it was the day when he jumped up in my lap and licked my arm - Will’s “cat phase” went from cute to slightly disturbing.

It’s impossible to carry on a conversation with a kid who inserts a “meow” or two between every other word. He insisted on crawling on all fours, even though there’s snow on the ground, and meows piteously and holds out his paws - er, hands - to be carried down stairs.

When people began giving us funny looks when he purred at me in public, I began wondering if there was some well-known fact about children who act like animals that everybody was clued in to except me.

For example, it’s common knowledge that mass murderers were likely to have been bed-wetters, fire starters and cruel to animals as children. Maybe, I thought, there’s also an established link between children who act like animals and those who grow up to compulsively chew old shoes or urinate in public.

A little digging online reassured me a bit: acting like an animal is developmentally normal for a 4-year-old child.

In fact, pretend play in general is considered to be an important stepping stone in a preschooler’s development - experts say that it helps children learn to communicate and express emotions and can increase their imagination and creative skills.

But pretend play is one thing; a break with reality is another. Can it really be considered normal when a child prefers to curl up on the floor to sleep?

I was hoping to raise a human boy, not a hairless 40-pound kitty that pees on the toilet seat and leaves peanut butter smears on my shirt when he rubs his “whiskers” on me. And cats don’t even do anything useful. Couldn’t he have chosen to be a service animal, perhaps a pack mule or a mail-carrying pigeon?

I know it could be worse. For instance, William could have decided to act like a poop-flinging monkey or a rabid woodchuck.

And I feel extremely fortunate that he has not been around actual cats enough to observe them cleaning their nether regions, because if he’d decided to give that a try too, I might have been in for a very unpleasant parent-teacher conference.

Of course, one day, when Will’s getting my car into fender benders or blowing curfews, I’m sure I’ll look back with nostalgia at simpler days when the most annoying thing he did was lap milk directly from a bowl after finishing his cereal, rather than using a spoon. And for the moment, I’ve found myself growing quite fond of my furless little feline and wouldn’t mind if he sticks around for a while.

As long as he finds his own way to the litter box, that is.

My friend Jennifer Margulis interviewed me for her column on the “compulsive motherhood” topic. While you’re at it, you should really check out her blog for the upcoming Baby Bonding Book For Dads, which Jennifer wrote with her husband James di Properzio. Good stuff!