That time I used too much logic while parenting
When you're a nerd, you're a nerd and that's hard to turn off. Looking at the world logically and analytically is how I'm wired. When it comes to my kids, I like to think I'm a tender and loving mom. But when it comes to tricky parenting issues, I'm not afraid to nerd down on them. Take the monsters.
We had just moved into a new house and my daughter was about to start kindergarten. That's when it began. The monsters under the bed. This childhood ailment I blame at least 50% on books and "The Media." It has become such a trope that it is found everywhere, in every kids show, and is effectively planted in kids heads.
We had just moved into a new house and had summoned the strength to brave the IKEA wilderness. Luckily we were able to get in and out in under five hours with a new bed frame to go with my daughter's new room. She tricked out the plain wooden frame with multiple pots of sparkly paints, as befits a kindergartner. She painted and re-painted the frame until it looked like something a unicorn had vomited on. Glittery pink here, a splash of chartreuse there. Then it was time for the real test - bedtime.
As any parent knows, there's always multiple phases to bedtime. First bedtime, with a story and a tuck in, followed by a request for water. Second bedtime, with a backrub and a short story about the raccoon who lives near grandma's house (don't ask). Third bedtime, after a song passed down by grandpa. Once each of these bedtimes were taken care of, I figured my daughter would settle down into snuggly enjoyment of her newly painted bed. I was wrong.
She came into our bedroom, concerned that there were monsters under her bed. I did what I had seen on TV, which was to grab a nearby spray bottle, dub it "monster repellent spray" and douse the underside of her bed with it. Mission accomplished. I strolled confidently back to my bedroom to settle in for a nice chunk of reading time, convinced I had solved the problem. Parenting with arrogance is such a foolish move.
I was taken down a notch when my daughter pitter-patted back into my room. She wasn't convinced that my monster spray was effective. In particular, she thought it could be effective against some of the monsters, but perhaps not all monsters. Sort of like how coffee works against general sleepiness but god help you if you are hungover sleepy, that requires a whole other set of remedies.
Being of a patient mind, I listened to her concerns, and got out a second spray bottle. I explained that it was an extra super powerfully magical spray that could repel both known and not-yet-known monsters. The unknown unknown monsters to steal a phrase from the Bush administration.
Trusting in the super powerful magical spray, I again headed back to my room and curled up with my novel. Only to hear those dreaded small feet make their way to my door yet again. Beginning to seethe with rage, but pushing it down to my toes just like Marge Simpson, I went with her back to her room a third time. The sprays weren't doing it, but god help me I was going to get in some reading time tonight.
I kicked into problem solving mode. What if there was literally no under the bed for the monsters to inhabit? I yanked the mattress down from the bed, landing it with a dull thud on the hardwood floor.
"Here! No way that monsters can get you now, there's nowhere for them to hide!" I perkily proclaimed.
My daughter looked at me suspiciously and I could tell the gears were churning in her head, trying to find a hole in this plan. I held my breath for a moment until she finally nodded in agreement, "Ok, I guess there's no place for them to hide now" she whispered, equal parts awe and defeat, and plopped down on the now floor-level bed.
And that is how my daughter ended up sleeping on the floor for the next three years. We joke about this now, while I pray under my breath to the parenting gods that this doesn't end up on her agenda with her therapist.
And I forgive myself for parenting with too much logic sometimes, because after spending all day long in engineering mode, in problem solving brain, its hard to turn off. The closest thing I have found is meditation, which is like a soft empathy reboot for an overly left leaning brain.
At the end of the day, I'm ok with parenting as my whole self, my super logical parts included. I could try to be a different person, but I don't think that serves my children and it certainly doesn't serve me. Instead I've come to embrace both the logical side and the softer side of my parenting style. I try to remember that along with helping with math homework, I can also snuggle-while-binging-Seinfeld. Even an engineer knows the healing powers of a snuggle on the couch after a day spent braving the corridors of middle school.
I take great comfort in the words of Jill Churchill, “There is no way to be a perfect mother, and a million ways to be a good one.” May I be a good one in the eyes of my children.
