Morning Breakfast Musings

Sharing Saturday  

As I pour the 3 millionth serving of bad breakfast cereal into my son's bowl today, I consider the areas where I have fallen down as a parent. All the things I swore I wouldn't do, all the ways I wanted to be better than my own parents, all the healthy improvements that have been made since I was growing up (Tang, anyone?)

And there it is – a giant bowlful of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, staring me in the face. Rebuking me.  Reminding me that just three weeks ago I vowed never to buy it again. I was going to stick to the healthy breakfast cereal aisle, at the very least. If I wasn't going to make my kids a wholesome, Donna Reed-like breakfast every morning, at least they would have whole grains and organic sugar in their cereal bowls.

I bounce back and forth between thinking that the way we parent today is far superior to the way I was raised, when "parent" wasn't even a verb, and quietly believing that my folks had it right in many of their assumptions, including a healthy dose of benign neglect.

My mother never made pancakes or eggs for breakfast. I didn’t even learn about the pleasures of greasy eggs with toast until I went away to college and discovered the local diner. Breakfast in our house was always a bowl of cold cereal and, if I was lucky, I could sneak in an Oreo or two without my parents' knowledge. 

My mother, hardly what you would call a morning person, did not have to leave for work until after we had left for school, so she was rarely up and about when we were getting ready. If she was, it was with a cup of Sanka in her hand and cigarette between her fingers. The hypocrisy of her insisting that we eat a "healthy" breakfast was not lost on me.

School is another area where I ponder the differences between my childhood and my childrens' experiences. P.S. 92 in Brooklyn was a gargantuan, ancient fortress. The only updates to its institutional (read: puke) green walls, cavernous metal staircases and  concrete playground were the giant iron bars guarding the first floor windows, a tribute to the safety of the neighborhood in which we lived.

I don't believe my parents graced the front doors of P.S. 92 in the four years I attended elementary school there (who would want to?) No PTA meetings that I recall, no parents joining field trips, no International Day or Grandparents Day or Teacher Appreciation Days or parent volunteers in the classrooms. 

Middle school was non-existent. I don't think my parents even knew where it was. By the time I attended John Dewey High School, at least, there was a school play and I do remember dragging my family to come see it as I was a stage manager. I think they attended one of three performances.

But I don't want to cast aspersions on my parents - none of this was atypical. I don't remember any of my friends' parents ever being a part of our school lives.

When it came time for me to go to college, my parents (by then divorced and not particularly happy to be sharing space in my father's Buick for the three-hour drive upstate and back) dropped me off in my dorm room and kissed me goodbye. The next time I saw them on campus was on my graduation day. 

In contrast, my kids' lower elementary school has an atrium, and parents volunteer to water its beautiful flowers and help tend the school's butterfly garden. The middle school has as many club and activity opportunities as a college, many of them volunteer-run, and the high school offers such eclectic fare as Arabic studies and piano lessons. Lots of choices, and lots of parental involvement. And lots of parental guilt.

I understand that colleges now hold parent orientations alongside student orientations so that parents have the chance to learn about all the neat things they'll be doing for the next four years (besides writing checks.) Yee haw. 

But I already went to college. I don't want to go again. When my oldest heads off to college, the only orientation I want is to be pointed to the nearest bar so I can drown my sorrows for a day and then get to work on remaking his bedroom into my exercise room. Parent as cheerleader for a college student? I think not. I will instead be looking forward to the day that I no longer need to know or take action on what is hiding under his bed.

So I am in a funny middle place about all the things that today's parenting police want from me.  I truly, honestly believe that I should feed my kids healthy foods, and I really, really try. But cold cereal for breakfast is such an ingrained part of who I am (no pun intended), I just can't seem to move into a protein mode, except for weekends.

And the schools. I certainly am more of a presence in my kids' school lives than my parents were. One cannot completely ignore the behemoth that is Montgomery County Public Schools. My kids each have their own in-boxes for all the papers they bring home each day, for crying out loud.

I go on one field trip a year for each child who wants me to and I respond to special requests from teachers when I can. And I make sure my children do their homework, at least until they are teenagers, and then they can make their own choices about homework, and suffer the consequences of those choices. 

I want my children to enjoy all the wonderful resources that our schools offer, but I really don't think it's my job to supplement their school day studies with math flash cards or science projects that we do for fun at home. I don't feel a strong desire to volunteer to proctor the schoolyard at lunchtime or alphabetize students' essays for a teacher. Not only do I have my own business to run (and I don’t have any parent volunteers helping me keep my clients happy), but I believe that my kids need a place in their lives of which I am not a big part. 

My job is to provide them with food, clothing and shelter, lots and lots of love, discipline, support and encouragement in their schoolwork and extracurricular activities, guidance about life choices when they're willing to take it (a rarer and rarer occurrence, at least for the teen) and opportunities to see and be a part of the world at large. I am supposed to teach them how to navigate the world, not how to find a square root. 

Did I mention lots and lots of love?

It's already a tall order, and although I think I'm doing a decent job in most of these areas, I have many moments of uncertainty. There's a ton of cognitive dissonance that comes with having been raised in a different era with different expectations. My hands-off attitude fares differently at different times in my parent community.  Sometimes I feel like a fish out of water, sometimes I feel like a trailblazer.

And sometimes I think that maybe, if I just made them eggs for breakfast, everything else would fall into place. 

Just not this morning. 

Photo by laffy4k via Flickr

Comments

[Susan Katz Miller]

Love it! I make special trips to the CVS pharmacy to buy 1960s-style sugary cereal for my kids because they won't eat the organic kind from the Coop or Whole Foods where I shop regularly. So I guess that's hyper-parenting, but retro at the same time. Once they're in high school, it's too flipping early in the morning to make eggs, anyway.

My feeling is, we need some parents to be involved in schools, and other parents to model devotion to career. Kids need to see both. Public schools need some, but certainly not every, parent involved. This is for the good of all kids, but our own kids find it annoying when we're involved most of the time, so it's not about being a good mom, it's more a choice to be politically involved. Those of us who do the school stuff are happy to share the info we glean with other parents who need help when their kids run into trouble, and give advice on who to vote for in local elections.

Anyway, we all know you're a spectacular mom, because we read your blog!

[Karen Paul-Stern]

And for anyone reading this far down, I just have to point out that my first commenter is one of those neighborhood moms (and friends) involved with not just the schools but with the whole school system, and she is incredibly generous in sharing her experiences, wisdom and advocacy with the whole parent community, no guilt involved. She definitely falls into the category of "I don't know how she does it!" (But I have to admit Sue, I am relieved to hear of your secret sugary cereal runs:))

[Carol Clayton]

Don't feel too bad-Cinnamon Toast Crunch doesn't have high fructose corn syrup, where just about every other cereal children will actually eat, does. That's how I make myself feel better. It's kind of sad, really, but there you are.

[Paula Lewis]

As usual you hit the nail on the head. Guilt, guilt, guilt... about not preparing "healthy" enough meals and not being involved enough with the schools; and also, not taking them on healthy, "fun" outings (biking! camping!), not holding them accountable for the chores they are supposed to do, and worst of all not wanting to spend time playing cards (or whatever) when I just want a little time for myself.

Here's a quote from Sam: I miss the times when I was younger when you and Daddy and Leah did more things with me. Ouch!