In Defense of Insanity

Benjamin Franklin once said: “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results.” If that’s true, and if you’ve ever parented for more than 10 minutes, you’ll agree with me that parenting often feels like insanity.

I’ve been a parent for nearly 20 years, and during that time, I’ve read lots of books on parenting, listened to a lot of experts on parenting and watched a lot of TV shows with so-called parenting experts. Every one had a different approach to the age-old parenting dilemma: How do you get your kids to do something...anything? It doesn’t matter if it’s laundry, chores, making beds, cleaning up rooms, coming home on time, doing homework or walking the dog. The plain and ugly truth is that we parents often speak until we’re blue in the face with precious few results. Sure, once in a while we score a victory when Suzy actually cleans her room or Bobby finally remembers to walk the dog, but put a bunch of moms together, and eventually the conversation will turn to managing our children and how nobody does it well.

If you know someone whose children supposedly always do their chores and actually listen to their parents, then you can be assured of one of two things: 1) The parent is on a power trip and is terrorizing his or her family or 2) The parent is lying. Because no matter how hard we try, the one sure thing in parenting is that we repeat ourselves...often...with very little to show for it. This is where the insanity thing comes in.

For years I’ve tried to convince my kids to prepare for big projects, assignments, events or trips ahead of time so that they won’t have to rush around and inevitably forget something or have to stay up late finishing that could have been done weeks beforehand. This suggestion is generally met with a blank stare and a shoulder shrug. I’ve even tried to say it more dramatically, more excitedly or even more cheerfully. It doesn’t matter. Hello brick wall. Meet Mom.

But I’m here today to say that I’ve actually experienced a teeny ray of hope. Something happened to make me think that the insanity may actually be paying dividends.

My daughter and her classmates are getting ready for a class trip to Washington D.C. It’s a huge event in her life, worthy of many meetings, reminders and, what I’m famous for: lists. I put out her suitcase in anticipation of the trip and as a mental note for her to start thinking about packing, but honestly figuring that we have a couple of late nights of panicked organizing ahead of us.

Then yesterday, my daughter called me upstairs to her bedroom. On her bed was the trip itinerary. On her floor, laid out in a row, were entire outfits for the four main days of the trip, complete with jewelry and shoes. I did a double-take. For a minute there, I thought she was reenacting a scene from one of those wardrobe makeover shows. I was stunned. I could not have organized my clothes better if I were Calvin Klein himself.

I know that this isn’t the Holy Grail of momhood, but I have to tell you that this is a big step. Why? Because my kid has skills! Yeah, I know it’s only selecting clothing, but hey, it’s a start! I want to shout this from the mountaintop: PEOPLE...THERE IS HOPE!

Look, I realize that I have years of joy and frustration ahead of me. I do understand that my life will continue to be a series of ridiculous one-sided conversations about accepting responsibility, planning for the future and “just once could you do something without being asked?!” But I will optimistically hold on to the memory of that row of wonderfully-coordinated outfits and how it brightened my day.