Busy

by Cheryl L. Erwin, MA, MFT, Co-author of several Positive Discipline books and

Certified Positive Discipline Associate

         I talk to parents every day of my working life who tell me they are hassled, harried, and completely stressed out. They spend all day in the car. They are rarely at home. They scrape for money. And they have little or no time to do the things that might make their families joyful, comfortable places to live. The reason? They're too busy being ideal parents. That is, they're busy giving their children everything those children could want. And it's making everyone crazy.
        Parents these days seem to believe that if their children don't get every desire met and every whim satisfied, they will somehow be emotionally crippled and will suffer from low self-esteem for the rest of their lives. I know parents with two or three children who have them all enrolled in dance lessons, swim lessons, gymnastics, soccer, Scouts, horseback riding, and piano lessons. The hours of the day are scheduled right down to the last minute.
        When they are at home, there is homework to be done, and chores. And these are inevitably the same parents who tell me there is no time for reading, for conversation, for listening, for family meetings, or family meals. I'm guessing that there is also little time for the kids to just "hang out" in the neighborhood, to make and enjoy friends, to exercise their bodies and their imaginations, and to have quiet time to explore the back yard, to learn about bugs, or to lie on their backs daydreaming under a tree.
       I can remember rolling my eyes when my parents would begin a sentence, "When I was your age. . ." But I'm old now myself, so I think I'm entitled. When I was a kid, I belonged to Camp Fire Girls and I took piano lessons. That was it. No gymnastics or dance; I was invited to an archaic ritual known as "cotillion" but my mother declined on my behalf, bless her. (And if you know what "cotillion" is, then you're as old as I am!)
       The amazing thing is, I didn't feel deprived. Not in the least. I do remember digging deep canals in a neighbor's yard, filling them with water, and spending hours in the mud enjoying the island world we had created. I remember building forts out behind the back fence and using acorns for tea cups and saucers. I remember endless games of Barbie, and organizing neighborhood carnivals and parades with decorated bicycles. And every single summer evening the entire neighborhood's worth of children turned out to play baseball in the street; we had spray-painted bases, the game came to a halt when a car went by, and girls got four strikes. We all could hardly wait for dinner to be over.
       Those are my very best childhood memories. And most of the kids I know these days don't have anything like them. Their loving parents are too busy bussing them to play group and other organized sports and activities. Don't get me wrong: those do have their place. But I believe that our homes would be happier, more peaceful places if we just slowed down a bit, and spent some of the time we now waste wading through traffic on the way to the gymnastics studio listening to our kids, or turning them loose to explore the neighborhood. And yes, it's safe if you do some teaching and supervising.
       I was a working single mom for many years, so I know that organized activities often seem easier. But kids need unscheduled time; they need open, inviting hours just to be children, to invent and explore their own world. Too many kids don't even know how. Maybe being a good parent means stopping occasionally, slowing down, and allowing everyone time to just be.