'I'm done making my kid's childhood magical'

More liberal parenting guilt, this time from the Huffington Post.

Captures the pitfalls of modern "America Beauty"-land parenthood pretty well, though, I think:

http://www.huffingtonpost.com/bunmi-laditan/im-done-making-my-kids-childhood-magical_b_5062838.html

I don't believe for a moment that mothers today love their kids any more than our great-grandmothers loved theirs. We just feel compelled to prove it through ridiculously expensive themed birthday parties that have do-it-yourself cupcake stations with 18 types of toppings and over-the-top gifts.

For a few years, I got caught up in the "Anything You Can Do I Can Do Better" parenting model, which mandates you scour Pinterest for the best ideas, execute them flawlessly, and then share the photo evidence with strangers and friends via blogs and Facebook posts.

Suddenly, it came to me: We do not need to make our children's childhood magical. Childhood is inherently magical, even when it isn't perfect.

 

Common Sense 101.

 

I remember when we done got our azz whipped for being a bad boy.
Taught Fart discipline and self-reliance. My Marine father did not suffer fools happily.
None of this here's-your-tofu-dessert-son-now-don't-do-it-again crap.

 

Translation: My childhood was shitty so yours will be too...

It never ceases to amaze me how many people subscribe to that way of thinking...

 

Or, "We didn't have [insert technology advance here] when I was a kid and I survived, therefore [insert technology advance here] is useless."

 

My overarching parenting philosophy is low expectations.

 

I lost my internal bet, because I definitely had you as the first person to reply with some form of, "Sorry, but Elf on the Shelf and themed birthday parties are kick-ass!"

 

My parents didn't give a shit other than maybe my bar mitzvah, but that was my mom's doing. Fawned over and made to feel ooey-gooey special I was not.

 

My mother doted heavily on me. Still does.
She had a few problems with my sisters, but I was the apple of her eye.

 

My parents were great. They loved us and provided what ever they could for us.

But, there were six of us, so they couldn't smother any of us.

Today, families with the most money, have the fewest number of kids. They can and do smother them.

 

I want my son to know how much he's loved. That's not a bad thing.

Show me the person who, on his/her deathbed, says, "I wish I showed my kids less love."

 

I moved out when I was 17. I'm 42. In those 25 years my dad has called me zero times just to say hi.