It takes a village… sort of.
In an Era of Endless Information, Where Do You Even Begin?
When my wife and I first started seriously talking about having kids, I did what any person up at 3 a.m. contemplating a life-altering decision does. I searched the internet.
The information overload was overwhelming. It wasn’t that the advice was bad, but it was like trying to drink from a fire hydrant. Just too much. So, I took a step back and started asking friends and family with young kids for recommendations on, well, everything.
“How’d you pick your stroller?”
“Is daycare really that expensive?”
“How much sleep do you actually get?”
I had no real experience caring for babies, aside from the occasional diaper change for my niece and nephew, so I welcomed any advice. I found that most people love giving parenting advice as long as you’re not being judgy. Maybe sharing reassures them that they’re doing something right.
But the problem? The advice was all over the place.
“Never let them watch a tablet while eating. It’ll ruin mealtime forever.”
“Don’t force them to eat. Do you eat when you’re not hungry?”
“Set a bedtime.”
“Let them decide their own bedtime. They’ll sleep when they’re tired.”
It was a buffet of conflicting opinions. Just when I thought I had something figured out, parents would say, “What worked for one of my kids didn’t work for the other.” Great.
Eventually, I realized there was no magic formula. Parenthood was a bridge we’d have to cross when we got there. So, I stopped asking. Then I remembered the two people I hadn’t consulted yet. My parents.
It felt like missing the obvious. I was a kid once. My parents raised me. And I mean… I like myself, right? (Thank you, therapy.)
Their answer surprised me:
“If I could go back, I wish I understood myself better. I barely knew how I felt half the time, so how could I understand my kids?”
That hit me.
Until I was 30, I was a people-pleaser with no concept of boundaries. I struggled to process my emotions. I was sensitive, but when I tried expressing my feelings, I just seemed dramatic.
But why did it take me until 30? Was that normal?
I shrugged it off. Then my niece handed me a book.
At first, it seemed like a simple story about colors. But the lessons? They were the same ones I learned in therapy at 30, just wrapped in fun, digestible storytelling. Every book we read together was like that.
Meanwhile, my niece got it. At six, she understood emotions in a way that took me decades.
Parenting evolves. The books we grew up with aren’t the ones we read to kids today. They’re building blocks. While I can’t tell you how to raise kids who are loving, emotionally intelligent, and capable of forming healthy relationships, I can tell you that these books help.
In fact, a lot of young parents are learning these lessons alongside their kids while reading them together. Better late than never, right?
So, I hope you enjoy the Feelings Finder. And if you don’t, that’s okay too. But if you know a book that absolutely needs to be on this list, let me know.
People say, “It takes a village.” That’s true, but also not. We’re not directly raising each other’s kids. Most struggles belong to us and a few close loved ones. When you’re up at 5 a.m. with a coughing newborn, I’m not in the trenches with you. When you’re ankle-deep in diapers, I’m not there.
At the same time, we’re all riding the same train, the one headed toward being better parents and giving our kids what we never had.
I don’t know if I’ll ever be on that train myself, but I have at least bought a ticket.
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