personalizing parenting

Me & my Godson, living it up. This is a big phatty reminder to all of us, me first. Don’t personalize each other’s parenting. Remember how I was in Virginia for my Godson’s baptism? With my wonderful family and wonderful in-law family (well, my brother’s in-laws, but we’ve all claimed them for our own we love them so)? I really learned something about myself when we were there, in the land of milk & honey & the Shenandoah River Valley. I realized how personally I take other parents’ decisions. This personalization looks different than judging. We’ve talked about the difference between being judgmental and making a judgment. We’ve talked about parenting styles that vary. We’ve talked about children driving you insane so you just eat cookies in the dark pantry (and chocolate chips!) while in your 2-day-old PJs and your hair starting to dreadlock–true story, that. Personalization is more elusive than an outright disagreement at parents’ choices; it’s downright disgust at them, or better yet, horror or anger. Here’s the sitch: I’m chatting one night over a dinner banquet with my beautiful sissie-in-law while she allows me to snuggle my Godson. She’s sharing about life and I’m sharing about life and then it happens. She mentions a friend whose child attends a few hours a week preschool, and how for this stay-at-home mom that time when children are doing structured projects and artwork etc, is needed and valued for the merit of the activities pursued. I find myself reacting strongly. Unstructured…