Field of Daisies

Species: Mammalia Parentalia

Below is yet another article from the archives.... After stumbling upon this one recently, I just had to dust it off for my blog. Let me know if you can relate...!
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Did Darwin Ever Study Parents?

They’re odd; quirky. When we were younger they embarrassed us in front of our friends. They have strange behaviors. They seem to be intelligent creatures, but sometimes do the stupidest things. Following is a mini-study designed to help us understand some of the quirkier characteristics of those humans known as parents.

There are four key characteristics consistent with all parents. They’re easy to spot if you know what to look for. The first is parental denial. A condition looked upon with great fondness by those of us who are parents, and quickly condemned by those who are not. The second is sporadic or spontaneous deafness. A condition which has mystified those in the scientific community for centuries. It can be especially irritating to others--even other parents. The third is parental pride, the competitive realm of parenthood, and the fourth is a unique classification of communication skills. It is characterized by the uncanny ability to carry on a complete conversation with unlimited interruptions.

See No Evil

Parental denial begins early. For most of us it begins with that first whimsical thought of having a baby. We fantasize about that baby smell. The perfect, soft skin. The happy little baby sounds. First smiles, first teeth, first steps. What many of us don’t allow ourselves to consider (enter denial) are the nights of endless crying, the spit-up, the poopie diapers, the continual childhood illnesses.

By the time the child enters the toddling stages, we realize what we’ve gotten our-selves into--just in time for the terrible two’s: the temper tantrums, the crying binges, and a condition my husband and I fondly nicknamed “meltdown.” There are those who say the two’s are the most wonderful time--it’s all in how you look at it. They refer to this period as the terrific two’s and usually sport a graying hairstyle, keep lollipops in their purse and believe candy is the widely-accepted fifth food group. (Enter grandma.)

The denial that irritates me most--and that which I can most relate to--is that which rears it’s ugly head when illness enters the picture. How many times have you heard a parent who’s dropping their child off in the church nursery say, “She’s got a runny nose, but it’s not contagious. It’s just allergies.”? I for one have seen more cases of contagious “allergies” than I’d care to count. The trouble is, I understand this denial. I’m afraid I’m guilty of it myself.

It happens this way. You’ve been locked up, homebound for days (for whatever reason). Then the night before your weekly bible study, your weekend retreat, or that seminar you’ve been looking forward to for months, your precious little bundle starts sneezing. Then her nose starts running. By the time you’re ready to walk out the door she feels a little warm. You grimace. You fret. Then you consider: Hey, it’s not a cold. It’s just aller-gies! Everyone gets allergy attacks this time of year. You know, my nose has been a little runny and I feel fine. So off you go. This time you’re the one dropping her off in the nursery saying, “Don’t worry--that green stuff is just allergies” fully convinced by now that she’s fine.

This pattern continues through their school years--varying only slightly. She didn’t kick that little boy. Her foot slipped. And, Sure he’s a safe driver. The night he hit that mailbox it was especially dark. I’m a little night-blind myself.

I’ve come to the conclusion that parental denial is not a condition to be rectified. It is a God-given right. It is what helps us to cope with the insurmountable responsibilities of raising children. (Of course I’m not sure this is biblical. And if you ever quote me, I’ll deny every word of it….)

Hear No Evil

Parental deafness is a malady of another color, although it too is necessary for survival. It is not a happenstance of parenthood, but a skill we hone to perfection. You’ve been there; your 18 month-old has spotted a ball in the grocery store and simply must have it. Of course that is one word he knows well. You hear “ball, ball, I wan’ dat ball” fifty times in less than 5 minutes. Any sane person would go crazy if they hadn’t learned to skillfully tune out those repeated pleas. And it only gets worse with the more words they learn.

The uniqueness of this skill is exemplified in the manner in which a parent can continue to carry on a conversation with their child without actually hearing anything they say. You will recognize a parent who has excelled in this skill; she will be saying, “Uh-huh, that’s nice, Dear.” Or "Oh, yeah? That’s great, Honey." The master of this skill will even go so far as to say, "Sure, Sweetie, tell me all about it." Now that’s masterful!

The problem with this particular skill comes when your child gets a little older and begins telling you things you really need to hear. Many parents have become so adept at tuning out that they never re-learn the skill of tuning back in. What we as parents must remember though, is if we don’t listen to them, they’ll start talking to someone who will--and that may be someone we don’t want them talking to.

Speak No Evil

On to the third characteristic: parental pride. Unlike the other two, this mannerism is totally uncontrollable. It is not a self-protective reflex. It is not a skill to be mastered. It is purely the expression of face-beaming, chest-puffing, swagger-walking pride for those feats your child accomplishes--whatever their age.

For example, our first child walked at nine months. He knew the alphabet by the time he was 18 months. He was reading at two-and-a-half. By the time he was four he was reading on a third grade level. (Beaming.) Parental pride occurs when you say to yourself, I’m not going to brag--and then you look for every opportunity to tell others about the proud behavior or skill, whatever it may be. It’s something you know you shouldn’t do. You don’t want to do it--you don’t want people to walk the other way when they see you coming. But you can’t help yourself. There you are. In line at the grocery store. Your prodigy starts read-ing magazine covers. The woman in front of you has noticed his reading. Suddenly you blurt out “Amazing, isn’t he?” (You know you shouldn’t have even opened your mouth, but you continue anyway...) “He knew his alphabet at a year-and-a-half.” (You think to yourself, Oh, well. It’s too late now. I may as well finish...) “Learned it all on his own, too.” (Aw, what the heck. I’ll never see her again anyway...) “We never even tried to teach him. He just picked it up all by himself!”

Parental pride is one of those things you just learn to accept of yourself, and hopefully of others. The skill is learning to keep your pride under control and just smiling and nodding. Beaming and puffing up and swaggering are all more easily tolerated if the bragging is absent.

Survival of the Fittest

Finally, perhaps the most enviable of all skills is the ability of two parents to carry on a complete, detailed, adult conversation in the presence of a baby, toddler or preschooler. It is worth noting that while fathers accomplish this adequately, it is mothers that seem to excel at it. We have to, otherwise we would never have any conversations with other adults.

When my first child was born little frus-trated me more than trying to carry on a much-needed conversation with another adult. There seemed to be days when the only multi-syllable words I heard were from the televi-sion or the radio. While this helped keep me sane, it didn’t fill the baser need for human contact. I longed for it. I craved it. And when I was fortunate enough to obtain it, my son would have an immediate need which demanded my full attention. The adjustment period was lengthy, but now that I’ve sharpened this skill, I can carry on the most intricate of conversations without missing even one detail.

While my husband has learned this particular skill, the constant interruptions of our 4-year-old son and 20-month-old daughter still irritate him. With each month that passes he gets a little less frustrated. By the time he really gets the hang of it they probably won’t be speaking to us anymore--unless we’ve re-learned that listening skill….

Coming Full Circle: The Benefit of Understanding

God has truly equipped us parents with some amazing abilities and some quirky characteristics, of which these are just a few. But I have to admit that, in exploring these quirks of my parental nature, I am a little less critical of my parents. With each year that passes since I became a parent I am more forgiving of them. More forgiving, more sympathetic, more appreciative. Yeah, they weren’t so bad after all.