The Culture-Bound Nature of Happiness and Parenting

Most of the happiest countries in the world are found in Scandinavia this year. The society is stable, there’s a strong safety net, there’s little crime and corruption, overall health is good….Let’s be more like Scandinavia!

The first question that may occur to you is how can I, a non-Scandinavian, be more like a Scandinavian in my non-Scandinavian society? Ought I to vote for and promote social policies mirroring that of the Nordic countries?

But there is a more fundamental question to be asked before we attempt to remake our society in the image of our happy northern Europeans. I am an American. Does being a happy American look like being a happy Scandinavian? I would be prepared to bet that my values do not precisely line up with Scandinavian values, and that which they may perceive to promote happiness may not do so for me. In other words: happiness, dependent as it is upon a complicated mix of internal and external factors, is subjective in definition and perception, as well as in expression. Maybe the reason for the high happiness score is that Scandinavians are taught not to whine about their place in the world. (I am not suggesting that this is true, by the way, merely pointing out the limitations of any survey in ascertaining so nebulous a concept as happiness.)

The same is true of parenting, which is extremely culture-bound, as described in this quote by Nicholas Day in his book Baby Meets World:

“Seemingly every culture before our own has had a single acceptable way to raise a baby. These cultures wouldn’t have cared about the new scientific findings: they already knew how babies worked. Their answers were all very different, mind you, but they had this in common: all the other answers were wrong.

“Such confidence makes sense. If you have to raise a baby, not study a baby, you’d better settle on an answer, and as long as you have settled on an answer, you may as well be certain about it. Pretty much everyone has been very certain. But if everyone has been very certain, and everyone’s certainty has been very different, you start to suspect that there aren’t that many certainties after all. There’s no one true path. Or put another way: the one true path is forked.”

Day notes that babies thrive under all sorts of conditions that would horrify foreign onlookers, and provides a wholesome reminder that the received wisdom of our time and place is not universal and will certainly change.

I do not suggest that we put our children in cages and feed them scraps (tempting though it may be sometimes). Children need some very basic things to thrive–safety, love, regular human contact, food, shelter, medical attention. There are, however, a myriad of ways to supply these basic needs, and while we will of course prefer some to others it is worth repeating that other ways of doing are not necessarily harmful.

While talking to other mothers, I see a reaction against the so-called “Mommy wars” that pit practitioners of breastfeeding against formula feeding, daycare against parental care, public vs. private vs. homeschooling, and so on in the hope that their parental choices will be validated by their superior offspring’s success. I think we are starting to recognize that raising a child is not like developing and manufacturing a product under “best practices.” However, our own assumptions about what is the best way to do something are still there, and so deep that we often cannot recognize our own prejudices.

Day himself falls victim to this sort of credulity when he describes how marvelous breastfeeding is, and what great pains (literally) his wife suffered to breastfeed their first. The truth is that when parents have access to formula and clean water, the benefits of breastfeeding are pretty small and transitory. (Reading about Day’s wife’s mastitis and abscess, and reading about his son’s poor weight gain in his first year of life, I wanted to tell Day to just crack open some formula and stop the torture, already.)

This is remarkable, because most of Day’s book is such a clearsighted exposition of the fact that babies can be raised in many, many different ways without suffering harm. One would think rubbing them with cow dung or strapping them to cradleboards would be a bad idea, but the babies do okay.

This is the problem I have with books that promote Chinese tiger-mothering, French etiquette-enforcing, Danish something or othering, or other “international” methods of rearing children. I am sure that some cultures do better than others at bringing up children to be humane, decent, wise, responsible, diligent adults, and I’m sure there are some social choices that make it easier or harder to be a parent (or a child). But our perpetual (and deeply human) search for The One True Way to parent our children is ultimately doomed to failure. That’s okay; your kids will probably be fine anyway, unless they live in a particularly unhappy country.

 

Harmony in Family Life

I see that I used the word “harmony” twice when reviewing Mercer Mayer’s Little Critter books. Oops. However, harmony in family life is an important concept because it means so much more than “things are moving along without catastrophe,” or “we’re not squabbling with each other.” Harmony isn’t even just peace, though peace is wonderful.

Consider what singing in harmony means: We aren’t all singing the same notes. Some of us are singing one tune, some another; some are singing high, some low. It is thrilling. Likewise, a family in harmony does not ask that each individual member’s uniqueness be quashed for the sake of conformity; each family member is free to be himself, but all of those unique people living together creates something beautiful.

My former pastor told us that when each of his children was born, his family wasn’t just added to–it changed into a whole new family. The dynamics alter with each new person. I believe that he’s right, and I love it.

No family “song” is perfect, of course; there are plenty of times when bad attitudes or circumstances (or both) cause discord. But unless there is something profoundly broken within the family, children and parents can come back together and lift their voices in tune with each other, creating a lovely and complex melody that is their own story and song.

 

Happy Father’s Day

Happy Father’s Day to the father who works long hours to make sure his family has food, shelter, and clothing.

Happy Father’s Day to the father who gives his children horsey rides, even when he’s tired.

Happy Father’s Day to the father whose love, protection, and guidance provide a good example not only for his children, but also his children’s friends, who come over and see what the presence of a father gives to his household.

Happy Father’s Day to the father who keeps things running, without any fanfare or call for appreciation.

Happy Father’s Day to the father who teaches his children by direct instruction and by showing them the ways of righteousness and wisdom.

Happy Father’s Day to my husband, to my departed father, to my father-in-law, to my childhood friend’s father, to the fathers of my neighborhood, church, and community. I can think of a thousand ways you’ve made the world a better place. May God our Father bless you today and always.

Suffering Is Not the Goal

The United States birth rate is at a historic low. There are plenty of factors at play–finances for one. Children are expensive. Money isn’t the only reason people are choosing to have fewer children, however. There is a sense that parenthood means giving up oneself entirely, and if you don’t do the Absolute Best Thing for your children then you oughtn’t have them. I do not agree with everything said in this piece here, but there is a certain truth that expectations for parents are impossible–and sometimes contradictory.

Is parenting really such a hellscape? Well, let me tell you:

Today I did laundry, sweeping, bathroom cleaning, organizing; I read books to kids, cuddled them on my lap, made them meals and put them down for a nap. I checked Facebook and a few blogs, too.

Today I took a nap. This was a productive use of time; I shall now have sufficient energy to clean the house, make dinner, and get ready for Bible study while not snapping at my loved ones.

Today I had a beer with lunch. It was tasty. In the morning, I had coffee with cocoa in it.

Today I am typing this post because I have something to say. My daughter wants to talk to me, and I will do so in a few minutes, but I have asked her to be quiet for a bit because I want to think.

Today has been a good day. The kids have been in a decent mood; no one is sick; I have accomplished some things, but not driven myself into the ground.

Sometimes I must drive myself into the ground, or my husband must. Kids get sick; I get sick; my husband gets sick or has to deal with a huge workload. Sometimes there are nights with little sleep or days filled with neverending chores. Sometimes the house is a disaster, the kids whine nonstop, and dinner is noodles with a jar of sauce.

Sometimes I play chess with my kids, teach them letters and numbers and the points of the compass, paint with them, play squirt guns with them, or take them out to get muddy and tired. I read them Bible stories and field questions about whether God goes to the bathroom, or when souls enter bodies.

My children amuse me a great deal. Sometimes, however, I’m bored of dealing with them. I cherish their cuddles, except when I want to be alone. I love them to pieces. I also love their bedtime. I hike less than I used to, watch less anime, read fewer new grownup books. I cook more elaborate meals (which I enjoy), read more children’s books, garden, bake more. I’ve returned to my piano, albeit in a lazy and inconsistent manner. I write fewer short stories, and now write blog posts.

As far as I can tell, my kids are okay. They’re young, so I can’t make any predictions about the course of their lives, but they seem to be reasonably happy, bright, and healthy.

Now, parenthood exacerbates other stresses, and I should mention that currently our lives are fairly easy, comparatively speaking. My family’s financial situation is comfortable at the moment; as far as we know, no one has a chronic or terminal illness, my husband and I are happy with each other, my husband works a white-collar job from home, and we don’t have any pressing family troubles.

If I could do it all again, I would.

I love being a parent to my three young ones.

Parenthood doesn’t have to be martyrdom. Your kids will be okay if you don’t enroll them in competitive preschools, breastfeed them, serve them organic food that you’ve grown yourself, taught them to read by the age of three, or whatever other “best practice” we impose on ourselves, if we’re privileged enough to do so. Love your kids. Discipline them. And for Heaven’s sake, take a nap if you need it.

It’s Only Sanctimony When…

Hands up if you’ve ever disapproved of someone’s parenting choices. Hand not up? Liar liar pants on fire. I hope you’ve had the good sense not to express your disapproval to the parent(s) in question, but all of us judge others for their parenting choices. “Little snowflake can’t eat anything but organic paleo? Ugh, how precious.” “That is way too much TV.” “Why isn’t she wearing sunscreen?” “Geez, don’t hover so much; the kid will be fine if you step three feet away.” “I hope that message on your phone is more important than your kids’ bloodcurdling cries.” And so on.

Most of us know how annoying it is to be on the receiving end of such judgments. If someone says, “Cookies for breakfast?” you feel compelled to tell a perfect stranger that these are specially-baked breakfast cookies with protein and no added sugar, and that you needed something portable because you have an early appointment. Then you make up some zinger of a rejoinder that you wish you had given instead.

When to interfere with another’s parenting choices? Thankfully, most of the time there aren’t clear situations where you absolutely must intervene. If a parent is leaving a 3-year-old alone in the park next to a busy highway, yeah, time to do something. If a parent is okay with their kids playing with their supposedly unloaded guns, also time to do something. If a parent is sharing cigarettes with their 9-year-olds, yes, interference is warranted.

But absent atrocious misjudgment, neglect, and abuse, there are still times when reasonable people might feel it necessary to at least say something to the parent, when other people would disagree. I see a lot of discussion about car seats, for instance. Not whether they’re necessary for young children–I know of no one who argues that they aren’t–but there’s debate about when to forward-face children, what you should say to parents with strap covers, what to say if a strap is twisted or the chest clip is positioned too low. (For Brits and people in other countries: In the U.S., car seats come not only with the usual buckle but a chest clip that is supposed to keep the straps correctly positioned. The chest clip should be placed at armpit level.)

Now, for maximum safety, you should keep kids backward facing as long as possible, and make sure that the straps, clips, etc are adjusted correctly and tightly every single time you go out in the car. You should not put strap covers on the straps, and definitely don’t put your kids in puffy coats when in their car seats because they could slip out in case of impact. Accidents are the top cause of death in children older than 1 year of age in the U.S., and car accidents in particular are either the leading or second most frequent cause of death, depending on the child’s age.

There are reasons to deviate from best practices. If it’s 10 degrees outside with a wind and you’ve got to drive three young children down a fairly safe road to their dance class, you might decide that putting their coats on underneath their car seat straps is safer than putting the coats on after you’ve arrived at your destination. Your seat might come with strap covers, which have been tested with your car seat, a fact that an onlooking parent might not be aware of. And your one-and-a-half-year-old might throw up every time you put her rear-facing in the car, so it might seem to you reasonable to forego the extra bit of safety in exchange for the cessation of vomit cleanup.

So why this discussion of car seat safety? This is a topic which engenders a range of opinions that people might or might not decide to weigh in on. Personally, I would “say something” if I saw a strap obviously twisted or loose, and I would flat-out refuse to allow a parent to transport a young child without a car seat. But strap covers, chest clip positioning, “premature” forward-facing, and puffy clothing? I just don’t think that the risk is great enough to offer my own opinion on the parents’ choices. Others may disagree, and they’re not terrible people for it.

Sanctimony is only sanctimony when it’s not necessary or helpful. But “necessary or helpful” is in the eye of the beholder, and that’s the problem.