Wednesday, September 22, 2004
I made the mistake of watching a Dr. Phil special on television the other night. I’m not proud to admit that, but he was doing a show on problem children and I couldn’t help but get sucked in. And it scared the hell out of me.
He paraded-out story after story about problem children with problems ranging from watching too much television to a kid who was exhibiting a nine of the 14 characteristics of a serial killer. I was able to deduce that most of the problems had everything to do with poor parenting, but it got me thinking. Now, I can’t help but wonder what our combined gene pool holds. Could there be something in our lineage that could lead to a terror child?
My wife is 100-percent Italian as far back as she can trace it. Her grandparents came here from Italy and aside from a great-, great-, great-grandfather who they believe was abandoned, she is as full-blooded as they come. Myself on the other hand, I am as American as it gets, that is, I am 100-percent mutt. Of course, none of this has ever mattered to any of us, until we got pregnant. Now, I can’t help but wonder what our combined gene pool holds.
I realize this is silly, but as the anticipated arrival of our first-born creeps closer, my irrational worry is rising. I’m starting to question whether or not I am ready to be a parent. Sure, I’ve read a bunch of the books, but lately, I’ve found myself reading more as quickly as possible. I feel like I am cramming for a last minute exam. Even more troublesome is, the more I read, the more I feel like I don’t know a damn thing. The paradox of knowledge is a bitch.
So, like any true researchers, I'm throwing all the books aside and working on a new theory: instinctual parenting. I know, all you parents are thinking I’m in for the biggest surprise of my life. But, let’s think about this for a second.
Humans have been having children since the dawn of time. Captain Caveman certainly didn’t have to worry about whether or not the wrong colored stuffed animal or too much watching of a purple dinosaur was going to damage his kid. No, his lot was easy; keep the kid away from the fire and watch-up for big bad T-Rex.
Maybe I’m naïve, but I consider myself a well-raised individual and I have to think that is due to the wisdom that was imparted upon my parents from their parents. I have a good foundation and I know enough that you can’t plop your kid in front of the television for hours a day and hope the kid grows up adjusted to the real world.
It’s not that I don’t see how it is easy to use the idiot box to raise your kid though. While the glowing box is raising your kid, it frees-up your time to get things done. It allows you to be selfish and in this world that values career first, family second, it’s the perfect tool for many. But that is not going to be me.
Too often I drive through my old neighborhood when visiting my parents and realize there is a severe lack of children out playing. The same ball field on the way to their house where I spent so many summers playing wiffleball is always empty. I can only speculate these kids are in playing videogames and it just tears me up inside. You want to know what’s wrong with kids these days, start at the local playground.
So, I vow that I will not let this happen. My child is going to learn to be creative and find ways to manufacture their own fun. Sure, I loved videogames growing-up, still do. But I’m going to do my best to reverse that trend. The kid goes to the ball field or plays house, the videogames will remain Daddy’s.
He paraded-out story after story about problem children with problems ranging from watching too much television to a kid who was exhibiting a nine of the 14 characteristics of a serial killer. I was able to deduce that most of the problems had everything to do with poor parenting, but it got me thinking. Now, I can’t help but wonder what our combined gene pool holds. Could there be something in our lineage that could lead to a terror child?
My wife is 100-percent Italian as far back as she can trace it. Her grandparents came here from Italy and aside from a great-, great-, great-grandfather who they believe was abandoned, she is as full-blooded as they come. Myself on the other hand, I am as American as it gets, that is, I am 100-percent mutt. Of course, none of this has ever mattered to any of us, until we got pregnant. Now, I can’t help but wonder what our combined gene pool holds.
I realize this is silly, but as the anticipated arrival of our first-born creeps closer, my irrational worry is rising. I’m starting to question whether or not I am ready to be a parent. Sure, I’ve read a bunch of the books, but lately, I’ve found myself reading more as quickly as possible. I feel like I am cramming for a last minute exam. Even more troublesome is, the more I read, the more I feel like I don’t know a damn thing. The paradox of knowledge is a bitch.
So, like any true researchers, I'm throwing all the books aside and working on a new theory: instinctual parenting. I know, all you parents are thinking I’m in for the biggest surprise of my life. But, let’s think about this for a second.
Humans have been having children since the dawn of time. Captain Caveman certainly didn’t have to worry about whether or not the wrong colored stuffed animal or too much watching of a purple dinosaur was going to damage his kid. No, his lot was easy; keep the kid away from the fire and watch-up for big bad T-Rex.
Maybe I’m naïve, but I consider myself a well-raised individual and I have to think that is due to the wisdom that was imparted upon my parents from their parents. I have a good foundation and I know enough that you can’t plop your kid in front of the television for hours a day and hope the kid grows up adjusted to the real world.
It’s not that I don’t see how it is easy to use the idiot box to raise your kid though. While the glowing box is raising your kid, it frees-up your time to get things done. It allows you to be selfish and in this world that values career first, family second, it’s the perfect tool for many. But that is not going to be me.
Too often I drive through my old neighborhood when visiting my parents and realize there is a severe lack of children out playing. The same ball field on the way to their house where I spent so many summers playing wiffleball is always empty. I can only speculate these kids are in playing videogames and it just tears me up inside. You want to know what’s wrong with kids these days, start at the local playground.
So, I vow that I will not let this happen. My child is going to learn to be creative and find ways to manufacture their own fun. Sure, I loved videogames growing-up, still do. But I’m going to do my best to reverse that trend. The kid goes to the ball field or plays house, the videogames will remain Daddy’s.
