On failing right out of the gate

I was reading this informative article, see. Because I’m clearly all about seeking out praise about my parenting. You know, by example and all.

And that’s when I realized that I’ve committed all seven cardinal sins. According to Cracked, that is. I give thee:

Terra’s list of shameful parenting deeds ¹

#7 – Give your kids a creative name

Well, Zoë may not be that unique anymore, given the rise in ‘creative’ names that have taken place in the past decade or so (Mercedes, Makayla, Hayden, Etcetera), but it’s pretty widely known that most Zoë’s tend to be Fah-reeaks. Like, those ultra-dramatic girls who don’t wash their hair much or wear matching shoes while they compose monologues relating to the horror their first hair cut left them with psychologically (“At once, I was naked, having had my mane stolen. The perpetrator waved scissors in my face, clip clip, snip snip. My mother sat in the corner while I silently screamed. A balloon, my reward.” And scene)? My kid’s heading for that status. If she can stop staring at her self in the mirror long enough to learn stage direction.

However, we definitely retained douche parent status with her middle names, Jessica and James. You know they call her a cowboy, baby.

#6 – Teach them to be themselves

Again, a clear FAIL. I’ve worked so hard to allow Zoë to stay exactly who she is, with so little intervention or correction from me that this freaking three footer thinks she’s the damn boss. Sometimes, she even acts like a – gasp – brat. Mostly though, it’s that whole “she trusts me enough to be herself and an asshole sometimes” thing. I’m so fucking lucky.

#5 – Make them play sports

Okay, this one doesn’t apply, since she doesn’t. Because I don’t do physical stuff with her unless it’s walking to Starbucks. Because not only would it ruin my cred as lazy-ass-fucker (which is entirely different from lazy ass-fucker) ², but it would also call for her needing to put forth some sort of grace.

The kid runs like Phoebe, people. She’s a gecko, at best. I joke, when she dances, that even if I totally fail as a parent, I can be convinced that she’ll never end up on the pole since no one would hire her with those skills. ^{3 4 5 6}

#4 – Starting them in school early

Well, we’re going to home school. Or unschool. As formally as we absofuckinglutely have to. Basically, come back here in 15 years and just you see. There’ll be a coked up manic girl with the attention span of a three-leaf clover, debating whether the USSR is west or south of Israel. Also, my daughter, who will have become a self-made know-it-all after her mom got a little too friendly with some of the dark, sharp-cheekboned ones in Vancouver’s night scene.

#3 – Warning them about strangers

After Zoë being such a scared, angry little baby, she 180′d and become extraordinarily outgoing. Except if she thinks you’re an asshole. Then she’ll silently glare at the space above your head, not actually at you, for hours until the pure force of her disdain causes you to spontaneously burst into flames. Thus far, only people I’ve actually agreed were assholes have gotten this treatment. It’s like, in-built child-molester protection, right?

#2 – Heaping praise on them

“Are you so proud, Mama?” If I hear that question one more time… Really, my response is always the same: “Are you proud of yourself?” If she says yes, then I say that I’m happy she’s proud of herself; a no would bring about more questions, so I’m pretty happy that she’s really fucking arrogant. I don’t praise her, but I don’t withhold praise, either. WTF?

My father. I’d get 97% on a test and he’d ask why I got one wrong. Not “great! What happened with the one?” or “did the one teach you anything?” just “oh, well that’s kind of bullshit. Quit cutting corners.” I don’t do that. I shudder at the thought of doing that. I even shudder at the thought of the sandwiched criticism ⁷, where you provide a compliment, then a critical statement, then another compliment. ⁸

What I do is give Zoë what I consider positive messages, like, if she puts on her shoes herself, I say that it’s another thing that older kids can do and it’s so exciting that she’s growing up more every day. Which, I guess, is like a backhanded way of saying “I’m really proud that you can do stuff that you should be able to do, anyway. Score one for like, growing and stuff.”

#1 – Showing them educational movies

I never bought them because I thought they were too expensive and trendy – the Einsteins and so on. However, I have gotten Zoë into the habit of watching documentaries. Mostly because I’d want to watch them and she, like, never goes away. And then, for her birthday, I totally suckered her dad into buying her Planet Earth. Which I still haven’t seen, but she digs more than the Corporation and Fast Food Nation, combined.

She also watches House with me, which is all about anatomy, as you know; Desperate Housewives, which is about the economy and method acting; the occasional hockey game, which is all about cheering for both teams, still, and therefore, sportsmanship; romantic comedies, which teach her that love can be right there, nowhere, everywhere in a slapstick way that you never saw coming and isn’t just for princesses; dramas, to learn about life and loss and acceptance and how so many really incredibly good looking people can be ‘related’ within one two-hour period and then related to others during a different one. That’s like, I dunno, fricking astrophysics or something, right?

Thus concludes my rebuttal to Cracked’s case.