My Parenting Spirit Guides

Remember when Mork & Mindy had a little baby boy and it was Jonathan Winters, a big, middle-aged, wise-cracking comedian? At the time I didn't appreciate the brilliance behind that casting choice. Why choose some everybaby, spawn of a crazed still-lactating stage mother, when an articulate bratty adult was available? And could his parents control him? Understand him? They gave him advice and he sorta listened, but he was already wizened by years in show biz.

My little tiny baby boy, Jude, is now a mammoth and upon return from 5-day school trip has absolutely no interest in any acknowledgement that I exist. I think perhaps I'll refer to him as a symbol - ! - meaning: the kid formerly known as my son and now parading around as a slacker/smartass. At first I thought, how quaint, his expression resembles that of the cat who's swallowed a few dozen canaries. After all, he shared a room with 3 other teenage boys, and teenage boys seem to be fundamentally deranged. A while later, I asked about whether he'd ever read Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury. The sarcastic, or rather, patronizing, response was delivered with such lack of affect I was taken aback. When did he get to be so utterly obnoxious? A friend of mine had simply wanted to give him a copy of the book. I now want to smack him with a hardcover copy of the book.

Similarly, he disdains any questions about anything involving the trip, unless Rugelah asks. He bought her a postcard and wrote her a note on it. I know all about this. ! indoctrinates the second child so that she loathes me even earlier than he does. They stop arguing because they figure out that united, they can leave Ball & Chain & me in the dust. We'll just stand there, a coupla dorks, or Morks, as it were.

Of course, some of this is premature. ! doesn't drive yet, and he doesn't have a job. Therefore, I am still the Ruling Witch and he cannot just grab keys and go. Mindy never could do bossy as well as I can. When he gets to be of driving age, we are not the type of parents to buy the kid a vehicle. He'll need to buy his own if he wants one. Still, he'll be able to call another ! and get a lift outta here. Rugelah will be yelling that she hates me, and by that time, my good looks may not be enough to carry me through every emotional crisis.

The lesson here is to be careful not to get too attached to one's children. Think of them as temporary houseguests, or middle-aged comedians with a paunch - if you must - and think of yourself as bolted down to a floor. Any freedom is an illusion. When they need you, be there, and when they reject you, you're stuck there anyway. Teach them to be respectful, have compassion, and to be true to themselves. Then watch them treat you like shit as they figure it all out. If I follow my own advice, I may be able to go the way of Mork, and head back to my own planet some day. Either way, I am warmed by the knowledge that crappy television characters from years gone by are still guiding my moral center. Who needs parenting books?