Parenting In Paradise

Moms and dads these days are largely addicted to prosperity in the forms of drugs, alcohol, shopping, being in love, excitement, pleasure, personal advancement, etc. The FaceBook photos with the kids look good, if you can get em to pose properly or catch em in a cute candid shot; but behind the FaceBook, they require a tremendous amount of time and energy, as parents try to suppress the guilt of knowing they really enjoy being out socially more than they enjoy their children—but the children sure know it, because they are getting the hungover, worn out, frayed and harried parent—the leftovers from the night before, while Mom or Dad is basically marking time, putting in the parent duty, until they can break free again and go do their drug of choice. When they get too far into the addiction, grandparents step in and rescue their grandchild, and fight against resentment at having to restart parenting at a time in life that is lower energy and needs to be more broadly focused on making the world a better place—passing on some wisdom to the next generation; but the next generation isn't listening; they're just glad their parents are willing to take care of the kids while they waste their lives doing things that can never compare to the joy of parenting in love and delight. The kids try for a while; make repeated bids for the love, attention, security and delight they so desperately need without knowing that they need it. But Mom and/or Dad is preoccupied and tired—going through the motions. After a while, the child gives up, throws in the towel, detaches. Doesn't really matter if Mom/Dad comes home or not, wakes up in his/her bed or somebody else's. Hopefully, by the Grace of God, there is at least one person who has the fortitude and spiritual maturity to attend deeply and compassionately, giving the part of the child's brain that contains the potential for connecting with other humans an opportunity to develop, while the developing is mushrooming. It will be much harder later, when the brain slows down, and he has a child of his own who will need connecting. We may be cultivating a society of detached, technically entranced zombies who either choose not to need anyone for fear of being hurt again, or who allow the repressed, primal, unmet need to come flooding back in like a tidal wave that engulfs and overwhelms or drives away the poor soul that it gets focused on, while the children sit huddled around a video screen, largely unnoticed in the corner.