Parenting Expert

I went to bed at 8:30 last night.  I know.  Foolish.  That is how I found myself awake at 2 am, reading the Twitter profiles of people I have never met.  Do you know how many parenting experts there are out there?  Many.  More than I would expect.  Go search “parenting expert” on Twitter and then come back and finish reading this.

It’s not that I don't think it’s possible to be a parenting expert.  I am just astounded that so many individuals have achieved the status.  And here I am, with my doctorate and my pediatric training and my two kids and my kindle full of parenting books and I am definitely not an expert. 

Example 1:

I have spent the past two months trying to get my three-year-old to stay in his bed at bedtime.  Instead he spends two hours needing one more hug and one more drink and one more potty run and one more stuffed animal to cuddle and one more standing in the doorway of the living room looking lost.  Our pediatrician recommended a sticker chart with prizes.  I will admit I am skeptical.  The only sticker chart I remember from childhood was the reading chart in fourth grade.  And I did not care about the stickers or prizes.  I just cared about reading more than Jenny, who lived two blocks away and routinely out-read me.  But I am desperate for a solution so I will try it.  I wonder if Jenny has read more parenting books than I have.

Example 2:

My nine-month-old has taken to shrieking as her preferred form of communication.  Especially when there is food involved.  The three-year-old thinks it is hilarious and copies her.  She thinks he is amazing and echoes back.  And now it is something like a shriek conversation.  They are screaming in unison with every bit of air that can fit in their lungs.  Meanwhile, I use my calm, stern Mom Voice and say “No shrieking,” “No shrieking,” “No shr-,” “Do you need to leave?” “Stop.” “No shrieking.”  Before you know it, I am screaming, “No screaming at the dinner table!” at the dinner table.  It works but I cannot imagine that I am modeling the right behavior.

If you read Malcolm Gladwell’s Outliers, you will recall that it takes 10,000 hours to become an expert at a given activity.  There are 8,765 hours in a year.  If one has a kid who is literally “up all night” for the first year of life, that person could become an expert in about a year and a half.  Although, I might wait and see how he or she does with kid #2’s sleep habits before I listen to any advice.  Alternatively, Gladwell says, it can take ten years to become an expert.  So maybe any parent of a ten-year-old is an expert?  In just the past month, I have had the mother of a nine-year-old and the grandmother of an 11-year-old request prescriptions for prn sedatives for their children.  My gut reaction is that there may be exceptions to that rule. 

There is a writer named Eric Barker, who blogs here, and points out that these 10,000 hours or ten years leading to expertise must involve actual dedicated practice.  In fact, some studies suggest that after ten years some experts may see their skills worsen.  Experts need “countless drills” to improve mastery.  I am not exactly sure what parenting drills would look like.  As a physician, I have practiced suturing on pig feet bought at the grocery store.  I have rehearsed physician-patient interaction with paid actors.  I have resuscitated plastic mannequins time and time again.  I wonder what a third-party would think of my Mom Voice.  A plastic mannequin would certainly prove even more steadfast than my three year old in response to my verbal commands, although the "picking up and placing in bed" strategy would probably be very effective.

I guess seven years from now I will be an expert, too.  I will either be very good or even worse than I am now.  Just in time to start parenting teenagers.  Either way, I will be sure to add Parenting Expert to my Twitter profile.