Am I Doing a Good Job as a Parent?

A day doesn't go by where I don't ask myself if I am doing a good job as a parent.

I see the hurt on my daughter's face when another child chastises her for letting a soccer goal get by and I want to storm the field, throwing a yellow flag for unsportsmanlike conduct. I feel the nose of Mr. Potato Head puncture my foot as I answer a child's call in the night and remember asking my son no less than 10 times that day to clean up his toys. I hear the disappointment in my daughter's voice when she explains to me that last night's math homework was wrong -- homework on which I had helped her.

Is there something I could do to better prepare my children for those who have cornered the market of perfection? Have I somehow enabled my children to acquire selective hearing loss? Do I need "remedial parenting?" Several months ago, I decided I still had much to learn about the most basic instinct in life and trotted off to my favorite bookstore. I don't think there is a topic known to man on which there isn't a "How to..." book written. In a few easy steps I could have rewired my house, been living on the beaches of Hawaii after making a fortune in six months, and traveled around the world on $20.

Knowing that I am a proverbial casualty to the lure of these books, I shielded them from view and decided on a book called "Three Steps to a Strong Family". The title made me wonder why it took 235 pages to explain three steps but, not finding a Cliff's Notes version, I decided to subordinate reason to a thirst for knowledge.

On the back cover of the book was a picture of the authors and their nine children sitting on the limb of a tree, looking like they had just been plucked from a Norman Rockwell portrait. Surely, I thought, these parents of nine children would have expert advice on that which I was miserably failing. The book recommended that families have regular "family meetings". So I called one in my living room.

"Are we in trouble?" asked my nine-year-old.

"How long is this going to take?" asked my eight-year-old.

"Are you going to read us a story?" asked my six-year-old.

"Do we have to sit in the time out chair?" asked my four-year-old.

Ok, so maybe this "family meeting" concept would take a little getting used to. Nonetheless I began by laying out the "Five Family Laws" recommended in the book. I did, however, find it interesting that the book entitled "Three Steps to a Strong Family" began with "Five Family Laws." I figured that maybe I wasn't the only one who shouldn't be helping children with math homework.

Throughout the next few weeks I tried many strategies outlined in the book and decided that many were very effective... if I could remember them and had an extra six hours a day to execute them. I knew I was in trouble when I found myself taking notes.

I had lists, rules and charts posted all around my kitchen to assist me on my rebirth as a parent. My children were so amused by this process that they began writing their own book and posting their own laws: "If a person breaks the family law of "Order" they have to give me all of their toys." I was floundering.

That Saturday night, my pastor gave a homily on the simplicity of leading a good life. I don't think there has been a single moment in my entire existence when I have felt more ridiculous. The direction I was seeking had been right in my own heart all along -- and how simple it was. He reminded me that the basic contract between God and humans is the Ten Commandments. In this simple covenant lies guidance to approach any hand dealt in life -- parenting or otherwise. It was as if Moses had parted the Red Sea of "How to..." books and laid the tablets of reason right at my feet. Except reason had been there all along. I was just too caught up in looking for something more to see it.

That night I took my church bulletin home, cut out the Ten Commandments and taped them to my kitchen cupboard. I tore down the notes, charts and rules. I stashed the book and the likes of the Walton Family at the bottom of my "To do" pile.

Since that time, I have reminded my soccer player that when others bear false witness, to remember that there is only one God and even He does not expect us to be perfect. Regarding my son's clean-up habits, positive reinforcement has helped him to honor his mother's instructions. And with respect to the math homework, I have concluded that killing the math teacher is unacceptable, so I remember to keep holy the Lord's day and pray for the power for all of us to do our best.

Examining our skills at the most important job in the world may be the first and most difficult step to good parenting. Refining those skills can begin by reading a book many of us already have at home.

If you're interested, there is more information about:
The most important event of all time and
The most important Book of all time.

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Contributed by Mary Lee Gannon
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