In this post, I am participating in the Silicon Valley Moms Blog book club. We read "the possibility of everything," a non-fiction memoir by Hope Edelman.
Some days, I feel like we're living in a society where every parent thinks there's something seriously wrong with their kids. I haven't read Judith Warner's new tome on the subject, "We've Got Issues: Children and Parents in the Age of Medication," but I'll tell you that I probably agree with her assessment, even though I'm no fan of Warner's over-sensationalism of these and other sensitive subject matters related to parenthood. (I despised Warner's "Perfect Madness: Motherhood in the Age of Anxiety," but it was spot-on.) We're smacking labels on kids like they're jars, not people, and we're giving them drugs to control their behavior. This is f**ked up. It's like parents of my generation (I'm 36) have thrown up their collective hands, crying: "They're all bad, and it can't be our doing, so something has to be done... see a doctor! Get some Ritalin! Give him more time on a test, because my kid is clearly gifted and is underperforming simply because of his condition." That's right, folks: it's not our fault. We live in an age (and for me, a place -- California) where kids aren't told no anymore -- heck, we can't even keep score in 4th grade basketball because someone might lose -- but we're not at fault for having kids that can't deal. I apologize for being heavy on the sarcasm, here, but seriously? I'm embarrassed that we parents aren't doing better -- without the drugs, without the special needs labels (some are legit, but many aren't), without the behavioral psychologists and the special sports rules and the "kid gloves." Let's get real, people; our kids aren't acting "normal" because their lives aren't "normal." Until we're willing to let them walk to school and play outside and have less-full schedules ... until we let them experience wins and losses and successes and failures ... well, until then (and we'll never get back there at this rate), we might as well throw our hands in the air. We're not letting them be children, so there's no wonder that Warner's books hit home some salient points about parenting these days going over the top and over the edge. [end rant]
With all of the baggage (ahem, see above) that I bring related to today's parenting stage, it was with great trepidation that I began to read "the possibility of everything," a memoir that, among other things, delved into a family's experience with a shaman treating their three year-old's ailments: croup and an imaginary friend. (I rolled my eyes: we're treating imaginary friends now?!) Edelman's memoir is as much a travelogue of her family's trip to Belize as it is a snapshot into parenting her 3-something year-old daughter, Maya. It's a tale that unfolds beautifully: lush descriptions of scenary intertwined with information on the history of bush doctors/shaman ... and, underlying it all, is the neurosis of a mother who really can't understand her child's behavior without help. (It's my belief that, had Maya been a second child, the behavior would've been less disturbing and the experiences in the book may not have occurred.) "Neurosis" may seem like a strong term, but Edelman has a lot of anxiety, fears and self-doubts that she openly shares -- something I really liked about the book. So many mothers pretend like they have the parenting thing down pat and are "practically perfect in every way" (to quote Mary Poppins). Edelman offers no pretense: she is what she is, and she has her hands overfull with one little Maya. More than anything, Edelman entered the story wanting a vacation; she leaves it having transformed from over-anxious to laid-back, just like one enters and leaves a vacation. But the source of the transformation isn't just a trip to Belize and a handful of days in the sun; it's in how her connection to her daughter transforms with outside forces, the intervention of faith that perhaps some things are out of our control and can be made better simply because we're willing to believe that they can get better (that, and a flower bath, which I think could cure a lot of what ails me!).
For me, the book inspired me to think about parenting today (again, see rant above) and the lengths I would go to if I thought something were wrong with my kid -- but also, the perspective I have on what's "wrong" and what just "is." I remain unconvinced that the imaginary friend in Edelman's book was really a problem, but at least Edelman's response wasn't to have the kid assessed seventeen ways from Sunday, in therapy and on drugs by age four. Thank God for that, because there are too many taking the other option.
At the end of the day, dwelling in possibility is much better than today's feelings of impossiblity, and perhaps that's why I enjoyed the book so very much. If we all just have a little faith, and cast aside societal pressures and preconceived notions of how things are supposed to be -- if we just pay a little more attention and, for God's sake, relax a little -- I think we'll come to the place that Edelman finally reaches at the end of her book. Maya's going to be alright; and all of our kids are going to be alright -- but only if we believe in that possibility. Is that too high a bar? I'm off to read Warner's book (grudgingly), and I'll try to answer that question for you afterward!
I always add a note on whether or not I'd recommend this book, and I'm thrilled to reply with an enthusiastic yes. It's billed as a memoir, but it could be read as a limited travelogue on Belize; anyone who enjoys exposure to and learning about another culture would enjoy it. It's also great for anyone interested in alternative medicine, parenting in general, or stories of leaps of faith. I'll be hanging onto it as a re-read -- something I don't do very often, so that's high praise from me.
Disclaimer: I received a complimentary copy of this book. I did not commit to reviewing the book at all, let alone favorably, and am not being otherwise compensated for participation in this or any other book club.
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