8000 shades of grey...

There are no real rules for raising children.

Most of us are aware of the basic guidelines: "Don't abuse them, try to keep them clean, feed and water them regularly, and let them have sufficient sleep." But anything after that, you're pretty much flying solo.

(And also, feeling a bit like a giant failure when you child refuses to sleep, decides that they will not put anything remotely healthy in their mouth, is constantly grubby no matter how many times you wipe them up, and is covered in so many bruises from falling off his own two feet, that you've started getting "The Look" from strangers on the street.)

There are resources for us to turn to: books, the internet, parenting workshops, advice from friends/family....

But none of it is right.

There is no "right" way to get your child to sleep, nothing that works for everyone. This irks my logical brain, because it really wants to follow a formula and get results - it knows how to do that. Sorry brain. No such thing exists.

So, again and again we are cast into the unknown, to figure out what is "right" for us. We stumble around in the dark looking for inspiration or evidence that will lead us down that glorious path, and, once on it, try to avoid the many distracting side roads, that somehow always look so much more appealing after a course has been chosen...

One of my "rules" is: "If it's not damaging you (physically, intellectually or emotionally) ,damaging anyone else, or destructive to property, go for it."

The theory behind this was that I didn't want to stamp out any creative or exuberant behavior, simply because It would inconvenience me, or wasn't social acceptable. Part of the "learning who they are" extravaganza.

So, beds get jumped on. Screaming "BANG SONG" in the car, over and over, to see who can get the loudest happens. Goop gets made out of dirt, water, paint, flour, and anything else they want to throw in to see what it does. 100 balloons are blown up and stuffed in the hallway so they can run through them - then are moved to the kitchen because "balloon land" can apparently not exist in the hallway - only the kitchen. Swims are taken in the middle of winter by putting the paddling pool in the house and filling it up with warm water (why not just fill up the bath? Because that is not a swim. It is a bath.)

And, my personal favorite to date: Walking through a crowded mall, with a two and a half year old that has just learned the correct name for all his body parts, and feels the overwhelming urge to sing a song about penises, and butterflies. (And because I know that you're dying to know what that sounds like, I'll demonstrate: Ahem.... "Penis, penis butterfly.... PEEEEnis, Penis butterFLLLLLY, PEEEENIS! PENIS BUTTERFLLLLY!!!!!!....."). It was pretty funny. Even with the dark looks I was getting from a mother who had all three of her "good" children sitting quietly in a trolley.

The hardest part in this is that I won't know until the boys are adults, whether this was a "right" path to take. Whether it assists them on the journey to self awareness, or helps turn them into inconsiderate, self centered brats. It's a bit of a gamble.

But, decisions still have to be made. We will continue to wade through the endless sea of grey, vainly looking for something even remotely black or white to cling to, and when that fails, and we are running out of time and energy to make a choice, we will find a shade to resonate with our lifestyle, and hope that we weren't just a couple of degrees off.


xox