Let Them Be Children

My husband and I were chatting yesterday about our childhoods in comparison to how our kids are growing up. In many regards, I feel like our generation says (smugly), “We are doing this better.” But I spend a lot of time thinking, “I don’t want my kids to grow up this way.” I wrote about cell phones a while back, Emily G. wrote about growing up in a small town last month, and Helen wrote about Pinterest stress last year.

I’m sensing a theme here; maybe we’re all feeling a little out of control . . . pulled and yanked every which way. Internally pressured to be this or that, and raise kids that turn out perfectly.

And sometimes I wish I could just go back to the good old days . . .

When we didn’t have answering machines, and if someone couldn’t get a hold of us, well that was that. And there weren’t texts that looked like this: “?” or “Hello??” when we didn’t respond in four seconds.

When we couldn’t take our phones with us, and date nights were unclouded by work, and playgrounds were just moms and kids, not moms, kids, and Facebook.

When we were in our yards getting to know our neighbors, and being a community instead of being a weird, introverted, internet society.

When we didn’t have too much information at our fingertips. When we knew bad stuff happened, but we didn’t have apps to tell us where the creepers lived. When we were just careful, and locked our doors, and didn’t talk to strangers, and said a prayer for safety instead of knowing about every single scary ounce of crime on our streets thanks to the Nextdoor App.

When we read books and played with non-electronic toys and played outside, because we didn’t have other options. We were kids. We spent hours being “lost” in the front yard, pretending to live off the land and acorns. We drew pictures and rode bikes and made up plays. And sometimes we watched Sesame Street and Mr. Rogers Neighborhood, but cable and videos were for specially sanctioned times like movie nights and visits to Grandparents’.

When our parents didn’t worry about whether we were “socialized”, because wandering around the neighborhood and playing with our siblings was enough and they became our best friends . . . and still are. We didn’t need playdates; our friends were always around.

When only the rich kids had computers and the rest of us made do with playing Oregon Trail and Frogger at school…

When our parents weren’t freaking out about which Kindergarten we got into, and schools systems weren’t freaking out about who passed what test . . . and learning was learning, regardless of public schools or private schools. And it didn’t matter if we took AP classes . . . we could still get scholarships.

When it was ok to play on a team that never won because there was always a Coke at the end, and your parents were proud that you tried even though you were too busy drawing circles in the sand to notice where that softball was going. (We won one game because it was a forfeit . . . in two seasons).

Moms, only WE can stop how pulled and yanked we are. Only WE can say no to all the stuff that gets in the way of our children’s CHILDHOODS. We can lay down the law and say “go play with your toys.”  We can teach our kids what they need to know. We can put our phones down and clear our busy calendars and BE with our kids. And it starts with me.

How will you say NO to the madness of 2014?