JANE:

"This house IS NOT  a democracy!"   How many times did you ever hear your parents say (or scream) that?  And how often do you say it now?

My house is, sadly, a little too democratic.  I have let the little people, the small unwashed, gain too much power.  You might say I am the Democratic Party of Parenting.  Basically that means I am too much of a wuss to get them to do what I want them to do.  They actually think, and act like, they get a vote.  It’s a sad state of affairs.  To ironically echo my own parents, "This house SHOULD NOT be a Democracy!"

Example: my son, who is too lazy to get his ass up the stairs and get his own damned pajamas.  He actually said it was a waste of his time.  HOLY SHIT.   Forget what would have happened to me had I muttered anything remotely like that to my parents, it just would have NEVER occurred to me…

But just HOW is my parenting like the Democratic Party?  Well, for starters, my husband and I have the majority (two older and wiser people outnumbers two young children, right?).  Not a super-majority, mind you… but still.  My kids try to use the filibuster to get what they want.  Whine whine whine, cry cry cry… Endlessly, until we cave.

[Lizzie:  Methinks kids are BORN knowing all about the filibuster technique.  All four of mine have been quite masterful at using it from the age of 15 months on.]

On the other hand, I should be glad they don’t use reconciliation.  Well, I guess sometimes they do.  Okay, more than I like to admit.  It’s not fun to admit your kids will outright refuse to do what they are told, or not do what you tell them not to do, or obstinately stand in the way of family progress.  My son, for example.  His refusal to try new foods could definitely be compared to some wackadoo Republican standing in the way of a bill that might actually benefit himself and everyone else!  Much to their dismay, just like Republicans, if they filibuster and use reconciliation too often, the kids get bad press.  

I suppose the children, pretending to be little Legislators, could introduce a Bill, here or there.  They could even fight amongst themselves to amend it, to make sure the most pork winds up on his or her plate.  Unless they are Jewish, in which case they would be the Knesset… And there would be no pork involved.   Actually, we are Jewish, and I’d be thrilled if my kid ate pork, it would be a terrific gastronomic leap from Chicken Nuggets.

If the little Legislators get out of hand, behave badly, and are generally just naughty, they get time out.  I don’t know about you, but time out in my kids’ rooms is very akin to the White Collar Crime Prison/Country Clubs our actual politicians get sent to for being corrupt and badly behaved.  We need to send our legislators, little and big, to a place that will be a real Thinking Corner.  

[Lizzie:  This may make you feel better, Jane.  If you want to see a White Collar Crime Prison Country Club, check out this "Naughty Spot Loving Discipline Time Out Mat"  He he.  Talk about wussy parenting....]

Hey!  If I am the Democratic Party of Parenting, my offspring are the Republican Party of Children.  Which would really suck, in an Alex P. Keaton sort of way.  This, in turn, would make me the Meredith Baxter Birney tree hugging Liberal mom.  Umm, clearly not much of a stretch.

Another confession: when I’m not the pandering Nancy Pelosi of mothering, I have been know to be the crazed, fascist tyrant.  Think Kim Jong Il.  I have the bomb, and I know when to set it off.
 
Shouldn’t our family be more of a benign dictatorship?  In a perfect world, I’d be the benevolent but all powerful ruler, keeping the peasants in line, working them hard, but not too hard, and generously bestowing kindness and birthday presents from above.   

The problem with being too benevolent is that this ruins the family economy, sometimes causing a huge deficit.  If this deficit got too far out of control, there would be no money for college tuition, or even worse, retirement!  This would lay a dreaded financial burden upon our future generations.  

The family economy is a tricky thing.  Those wanna-be voters want a say in how the money is spent.  (are the commercials they watch akin to lobbyists, influencing family spending?)  But… they do not pay any taxes!  They do not contribute in any fiduciary way to the household economy.  As a small return on our investment, we are waiting for them to be old enough to safely use the rider mower, thus eliminating the cost of outsourcing this service.  Same with plowing the driveway.  

[Lizzie:  Our parents' generation was a whole lot better at getting us to be useful at a young age.  Hats off to them for that...fond memories of my brother firing up the grill at age 7.  The barbecue tongs were bigger than his whole skinny little arm.]

 
What about the Judiciary… Who would this be?
Have you ever gone to the playground, and encountered the Mommier than Thou Mommy?  These are activist mommies, legislating from the park bench,  who think they know what is the best way for everyone to parent, and do not hesitate to tell us.

[Lizzie:  Don't get me started, Jane.  I won't mince words here.  I have no use for that particular form of checks and balances.  Ask me if I care that the mom down the street adds pulverized spinach to the spaghetti sauce that she then freezes in individual portions.]

Parents should be the President, the Executive  Branch.  The agenda should be set by us, and veto power should come from that Oval Office we call our family kitchen.

 

LIZZIE:

Oh yes, Jane.  I grew up hearing that old saw about the non-democratic nature of the nuclear family…probably on a daily basis.  Of course, as one of seven kids, I am sure that my father was doing his bit to keep raw anarchy at bay.

And, as far as my dad was concerned, there was no need ever for outsourcing when he had seven Lucky-Charms-fed bodies to pluck from the plaid sofa set every Saturday morning.

As for my “form of government” as a parent, I must admit, I have never been less sure of my own leadership.  With kids ranging in age now from 21 to 11, with a divorce just about to be final, with two in college and with two in middle school…I think maybe I need to look outside modern government models for a parallel with my situation.

Hate to say this, but I think I can equate our family “government” at this point to an episode from medieval history.  Ever read about the papal schism of the 14th century?  One pope stayed in Rome, while the other pope set up holy shop in Avignon.  I guess I’m the Avignon pope, since I gave up the home court advantage.  And since subjects were a whole lot more inclined to pay attention to papal bulls coming from Rome than Avignon (no matter how nice the palace, the neighbors, and the local Rhone wines).

I’ve even had visits from tearful saints (a la Catherine of Siena’s appeals to Pope Gregory to pull himself together, suck it up, and go back to Rome).  But I was a stubborn schismatic, and I told my saintly ambassador Avignon was where I’d be staying.

Which means my kids are a bit like the 14th-century Catholic rank and file trying to figure out which Pope to follow.  I don’t want it to be like that, and I’m trying very hard to have open enough communications with Rome to make it NOT like that.  But let’s face it: part of the reason for heading to Avignon to parent is that my parenting philosophy is just very different from that of the other pope.  

It could turn out that my parenting philosophy is as wrong as my ideas about marriage back in my 20’s. 

[Jane strongly disagrees and wishes she could convince Lizzie otherwise!]  

I no longer feel certain of anything except my gut feelings about right vs. wrong, respect vs. disrespect, personal responsibility vs. abdication.  (Try sending THAT up to the Supreme Court…or the Vatican cardinals…so as not to torture the metaphor too much.) 

[Jane: Stay away from those Mommier than Thou Mommies... the SCOTUS and Cardinals of the Parenting World]

So, maybe I’m like a Southern France pope…who really never wanted to be a pontificating figure at all.  Is there a form of government that is based on mentoring?  On hoping that the Golden Rule is catching?  On paying small kindnesses forward?  On sticking to your principles in a way that blends authority and protection with liberty and experimentation?  Hmmm, I might be heading further back into history.  Back beyond U.S. democracy, beyond medieval schism, waaaayyyy back to Platonic ideals of philosopher-kings.  

About as far from Realpolitik as one can get, right?  But I don’t have it in me to run a government right now.  I just want to somehow finish this race knowing that I was a good role model…with a shred of nobility here and there.  Schism teaches you that everyone feels the right to weigh in on what reforms the leaders ought to make.

(Short digression:  Even my home state is forcing me to take a parenting class.  After 21 years of parenting–years during which I reared children whom the state has rewarded with scholarships and honors and mentions.  My divorce will not be final until I can show the judge my “diploma” from a 5-hour mandatory parenting fitness class.)  

[Jane: oy!]

State of Virginia notwithstanding, I had a moment recently when I felt that balance with my 13-year-old daughter.  May I share?

Well, one area where I struggle is that the other pope tends to be the “fun pope.”  The other pope does lots and lots of amusement park trips, island getaways, tennis tournaments, and resorts.  I, for reasons of budget and philosophy, tend to stick close to Avignon.  Avignon IS very nice after all.  

Sometimes I think I need to try harder to be the fun pope in my little half of the schism.  So recently I proposed a Saturday amusement park trip.

My daughter seized upon the idea with enthusiasm.  And, being a very sociable type, immediately started asking about whether this friend and that friend could join us.

Then she got an even grander idea.  Our brand new papal neighbor is going through her own schism, and her daughter is a friend of my daughter’s.  My neighboring exiled pope is a very private pontiff indeed.  I like her a lot, from everything I’ve seen of her so far (especially the fact that she weatherproofs her fence with one hand holding a paintbrush and one hand holding a glass of merlot.)

However, I know better than to push the friendship.  I worried right away that an invitation to join us on an all-day trip to Hershey Park would be pushy.  Let’s just let papal alliances form naturally, y’know?  We could worship chocolate and roller coasters together next summer maybe.

I started to just say no, not wanting to get into all of my adult reasons for making the decision.

My daughter began arguing with me.  “Why not, Mom?!  It’s a great idea.  Why won’t you even ask?!”

I felt my “old answer” come to my lips.  The one I probably would have given her older sisters….

“Stop arguing with me.  That is just my decision.  I’m in charge, and you need to show respect.”

Instead, I stopped; and I looked at my beautiful, sociable, brand-new-teenager daughter.  And I told her the truth.  “I’m nervous about asking,” I said.

“But why?  It would be such a nice thing to do.”

“Well, I’m nervous that it would end up seeming like, ‘HOWDY, neighbor!!!  What are we doin’ together THIS weekend?”

“You know, I just don’t want to be THAT neighbor.  I could really use a friend right now, and I like M’s mom a lot. But I think she’ll think I’m weird, or a loser, if I make lots of invitations right from the beginning.”

She was silent for about 20 seconds.  During that 20 seconds, as I watched her trying to decide whether to keep arguing, I had this funny feeling that this conversation was important.  It had everything to do with the schism that had rocked her world.  And I was appealing to a maturity I wasn’t completely sure was in place.  This could easily become the place where one pope gets played off the other.  Where the subjects revolt over the shrinkage of entitlements.  Or, she might just see my loneliness and need and think me weak.

Instead, she looked at me, and she smiled a knowing smile.

“You’re right, Mom.  I KNEW I got my social smarts from somewhere.”

My papal-dissident eyes got moist, and I couldn’t speak for a moment.

I had experienced grace from one of my subjects.  Even a feeling of having gained a bit of social-skills street cred in that moment.

My own hope, as a newly divorced parent, is that there is something that can keep the glue together, even when there is no clear, rock-solid form of family government.

Is there such a thing as “relational democracy?”