Theology of child-rearing

I had this thought yesterday as I was thinking of the many momversations I've been in where a mother will frantically reveal that she discovered she's been doing something the "wrong" way all this time. Or where a mom talks about how they are doing something the "right" way, according to experts. Or where a declaration will be made about an undesirable parenting trait, usually touchy-feely attachment parenting or "being overprotective," and how knowing, pitying looks have been cast my way. I think maybe there's a reflection between my theological approach (broadly speaking) and how I regard parenting advice. I am not threatened by a variety of theological interpretations. I think there might be some questions or answers that are fundamentally misdirected (oversimplified as "wrong"), but there are a lot of "right" questions/answers. I have a really well-weathered faith to guide me. I recognize utter bullshit quickly, but I also see that most stuff is an approximation of the good, an attempt toward whatever it is we're meant to be aiming at. Same with parenting. Abuse is a no-no. But there are a lot of "right" ways to parent.

I think what I run into more often than not is parents who are afraid not to have one "right" answer. They probably like their theology with questions and answers in neater columns, too. Of course, that's fine with me. But my best parenting conversations are stolen in the church kitchen or hallway with veteran moms of teens, who have enough experience to know that what "They" (the experts) say is just a guide. We treat parenting advice the same as a really good recipe. It's just a template, and if you're a good cook, feel free to tinker and adjust to fit what's in the house. I don't go by "Their" advice all the time, but I'm doing the best I know how to raise Pip safely and well. I happen to like spending 30-60 minutes each evening cuddling a sleepy or sleeping baby. Holy crap, you experts, before you tell parents to nix the cuddles in favor of quick bedtime routines, why don't you come up with another time in that child's life when a parent is going to be able to cuddle so much? Are we meant to make up for cumulative cuddle deprivation in the teen years? Please!

Anyway, I thought I needed to get that thought rolling before the big reveal. A few months ago, when we started playing the toe "piggy" game, my lifelong abhorence of that not-a-rhyme resurfaced. "This little piggy went to market/This little piggy stayed home/This little piggy had roast beef/This little piggy had none/And this little piggy cried wee, wee, wee, all the way home." Screw you, piggy game! That doesn't rhyme. Plus, it's so unfair, like a prelude to a dysfunctional family novel or one of Grimm's tales. So here's the version we use in our house. Feel free to mock on the inside, but at least it rhymes. (The first two lines refer to coffee toppings).

This little piggy likes whipped cream,
This little piggy likes foam,
This little piggy went to Canterbury,
This little piggy to Rome,
And this little piggy cried, "Wee, wee, wee!" all the way home.


Above: Playing with blocks with Poppa.