Score!

In order to stay certified as foster parents, Ian and I need to take 15 hours of classes on some subject or another related to parenting. We took a big whopper of a class a couple months ago, the Beyond Consequences workshop, which was interesting but since we didn’t then have a child let alone a deeply troubled one (knock on wood), we mostly did it for the hours. Two weekends ago, SCFFAA had a parents’ round-table which included daycare and was only 2 hours, so we thought we’d check it out.

The first big take-away from the seminar had nothing to do with the speakers, but with Mikey having a good time playing with the other kids and barely even noticing we were gone, leading us to the conclusion that he’s ready for preschool.
The second take-away came from some of the advice the parents on the panel gave about keeping score. It’s apparently pretty easy to become resentful, only notice the things you’re doing to make the whole family thing work, and rack up a lopsided scoreboard in your head, picking up points for every time you have to get up during the night to feed or attend to tears, deal with a bad diaper or a temper tantrum by yourself, do laundry and clean the house while your partner has fun playing with the kid, or do whatever it is which isn’t your favorite part of being a parent. I don’t know if there is a multi-point system, but if so, how would one calculate the number of points for getting the poop out of the tub when our relaxing bath-time went terribly wrong last night? And is that score multiplied when your partner unhelpfully chimes in, “It’s breaking up! It’s breaking up!”

No, the advice was, basically, don’t keep score. Open your eyes and recognize all the things your partner is doing which you aren’t noticing, enjoy the parts of raising a child that are truly magical, and get over yourself. Which is pretty good advice, whether you have a child or not.

So, Ian and I don’t take score on who does what, or we don’t keep score, which is slightly different. What, after all, is the point of keeping any score? As a game designer, I can say it’s a way to quantify your degree of success, usually compared to other players. Since you and your partner – as defined by the word “partner” – are both members of the same team, it’s counterproductive to make that a competition.

Where score matters are on things like developmental tests which Mikey will be taking soon courtesy of the north Los Angeles regional center. And scores matter on the playground, where life is tough.

We just got back from the playground in Tarzana, where I met up with my good friend and parenting mentor Suzanne and where Mikey was literally mobbed by a gang of boys and girls who looked to be between 6th and 8th grade who were hanging around, waiting for their day camp field trip. About a dozen of them passed him around, getting high fives and fist bumps, pushing him in another kid’s push car, and generally oohing and ahing over his every grin and giggle. Meanwhile, every other kid in the park, including Suzanne’s own absolutely adorable and sweet little girls, were ruthlessly ignored no matter what.
Suzanne and I laughed about it, and then I was thinking about this whole notion of competitive childrearing afterwards. Giving Mikey a point for every minute with every teenager looking on him with adoration. Subtracting points from Suzanne for such sad cheats as her prompting her youngest daughter, “See, show them you can do fist bumps too!” That kind of thing.

It’d be funny to be that shallow and that competitive. I would never do it. But if I did, the score would probably be 89 to 4 in Mikey’s favor. Approximately. ;)