Over at Feministe, Lauren wrote about the tendency of some (important word that is, “some”) child-free/childless feminists to look down their noses at parents, specifically at mothers.

A few good sound-bytes:

My identity is not defined by my parenthood, but my life is. Without a child I wouldn’t feel as obligated to work as much as I do, to avoid such debt, to secure meaningful assets, or to better myself or the world. I’m naturally one selfish wench who would rather not be bothered by real world ephemera, and I recognize that having my little one in my life makes me a better person even if he isn’t the only thing I strive for. As for other adults in my world, I hope that they have the decency to well-wish my child even if they don’t care for or love him. My parenting theory does not obligate a random adult to a stranger’s child, just hopes that they recognize that children are indeed little people who haven’t yet grown up and thus continue to make bad decisions.**

Not that I’ve turned into a philanthrope, mind you. I reserve the right to hate stupid adults.

Emphasis added. While a few commenters have taken exception to this phrase, I believe that I know where Lauren comes from here. Having a child in no way makes me morally superior to a person/woman/feminist who doesn’t have kids. In my life, having a child made me a better person. YMMV. I’ve said before that having a daughter has also made me a feminist at all — not “just” a “better” one.

In a nutshell, my theory of parenting is as follows.

Children: Little people making bad decisions.

Adults: Helping little people make less bad decisions.

Parents: Obligated to help, to the best of their ability, their little people make the best decisions they can.

This description is, IMO, worth typing up and framing. Or, if I were into that sort of thing, cross-stitching and surrounding with hearts and flowers to hang in the kitchen. (But that’s not my bag, baby.) I’m fond or telling people often, “I don’t see my responsibility as being to raise a well-behaved child. My job is to raise a highly-functional, emotionally healthy adult.” That just leads back to the same point: a parent’s job is to help a child learn to make good decisions (as the child is able and it’s age-appropriate), so that the child can make good decisions solo in the future.

Anyway, here’s the post: Little People with Poor Deduction Skills.

Take a look at the comments. They get a bit heated at times, but I largely find myself unoffended by them, more just informed to others’ perspectives. To the comment thread, I add my thoughts about assuming kids to be brats based on prior experience. (ZuZu talked about this one, and I don’t blame her at all. Besides, even if I did, that doesn’t change the fact that she’s completely entitled to an opinion!)

As a single parent, I take my daughter with me to many more places than most parents typically would. Simple example: I like to eat out. If I want to eat out, that usually means that Maya goes with me. Teaching her (and modeling for her) proper behavior in a public place has meant that now I can take her out even more than I used to. It’s not uncommon for one of those who glared as we entered to later approach and tell me how well-behaved she is in a restaurant. Reasons for this:

• Restaurants (or other “grown-up” places) are not strange to her, so it doesn’t seem odd to her to behave differently in a bistro than, say, McDonald’s.
• I don’t allow her to run around. Trust me, she would LOVE to do so. When we’re in an appropriate setting, I love nothing more than to let Maya wander freely and explore her surroundings. A restaurant is not that setting, and the rule has been, while people are eating, she remains in her seat. This isn’t negotiable, and she’s come to accept it. It’s also meant that a few times when I’ve wanted longer for dinner (and her patience has run thin), we’ve ordered dessert so I could finish my wine, damnit.

Expectations are the name of the game, folks. When/if we hit the point where Maya cannot/will not behave in an “adult” setting, she won’t go. But I feel pretty safe that she gets the basic idea so far.

Speaking of expectations, I’ll sometimes run into the grumpy kids-are-by-nature-a-pain-in-the-ass types of people while we’re out and about. Sample conversation:

Grumpy makes eye-contact with Maya, then me.

I smile. It’s a habit. I’m extroverted that way.

Grumpy: How old is she?

Me: (gives age)

Grumpy: She must be a handful for you.
(Implication: kids are, and therefore your kid is, a total pain in the ass)

Me: Oh, she’s a blast. We really enjoy each other’s company, and I’m lucky to have her.

Grumpy wanders off muttering something to the effect of “just you wait.”

These sorts of conversations seem meaningless on the surface, but I consider them important for two reasons:

1. I just might open Grumpy to the idea that not all kids are pains. I might not, but at least Grumpy learns not to diss my kid to me.
2. More importantly — MUCH more importantly — Maya starts hearing from a very young age that I like her. It’s one thing for a child to know her parents love her. That’s expected, so it’s really not a heroic feat. It’s more powerful for her to realize that I not only love her, but I like and enjoy her.

We will continue to wander in public places, and I’ll eternally learn what behavior is or isn’t appropriate in different places, often by trial and error. But, at least we try, and we’re not shut-ins.