What I didn't learn from the parenting books

It seems like life around here falls into 2 categories lately: the Times When The Boys Are Healthy and the Times When The Boys Are Sick .

It will not come as a surprise to anyone who knows me well that during the Times When The Boys Are Sick, I turn into a complete worry wart. Not that I'm not already a worry wart during the Times When the Boys Are Healthy, it's just that when they are sick I literally cannot concentrate on anything other than getting them healthy again.

And so I turn to anyone and anything with advice about the particular sickness: other moms of young kids, co-workers, neighbors, family, even the cashier at Target. If someone could just give me some magic guidance about what this sickness could be and how long this sickness will last or whether or not it is contagious and will be passed back and forth between my twin boys for the next 4 months, I could relax a little bit.

Sometimes when I'm desperate, I resort to Dr. Google to diagnose the mystery illness and the internet always has an answer for me that I can grasp on to, but generally not one that puts my mind at ease.

I gain frequent flyer miles as we head to the pediatrician's office when each new symptom arises or when they simply will not go away after several days weeks.

Doctor's Office visit #6 within 2 weeks

A couple of weeks ago a fellow mom (with good intentions) asked me if I had read any books on natural home remedies.

Had she seen me clearing the shelves at Walgreen's of all their Kleenex and children's ibuprofen? We just bought another humidifier, doesn't that count as a home remedy?

Confession: I have not read a single parenting book.

Ok, I take that back. I did attempt to read several books about sleep training when our twins were around 6 months old and we seemed to be the only family in Hennepin County whose newborn babies had not yet once slept through the night despite our best efforts.

Don't get me wrong. I am a person who craves direction. I admire experts on childhood and yearn to gain as much knowledge from them as possible. I love checklists, recipes to follow, and rules to live by.

But every time I have picked up a parenting book, I have felt the opposite of inspired. These books overwhelm me with their ideas. They make me feel like I am doing it all wrong. They make me feel like a bad parent.

We are part of a generation that considers parenting to be a skill. Like a true skill that needs to be mastered and perfected and if we don't get it right, we won't know what to do if we don't read all the research and act accordingly.

And so, when I returned home late one night after 4 hours of parent-teacher conferences plus a full school day behind me, I took one listen to my little guy and knew that we needed to go to the ER. I scooped him out of his bed with his blankies and paci and had him in the carseat before I could even tell my husband where we were going. Something was not right with my little boy and I didn't have time to consult Google or friends or experts or books.

At the Children's ER with Owen, who turned out to have Croup.

At that moment, all I knew was LOVE. A genuine love for my little guy that is raw and honest, and not based one second on what the experts say. Maternal instincts that guide me to act on what my heart is telling me. What an amazing source of knowledge to be born with. 

And that is not something I could have learned from a parenting book.