Just the Nanny
A Longtime Nanny Reflects on Parenting, Motherhood, and Secrets Kept
Parent to Parent
“The Breakdown”
Dad Can Do It
Braiding Hair 101
The Temporary Parent
A Foster Mom Explains Her Insight Into Troubled Teenage Boys
Together We Can
Black Parent Initiative Helps African American Parents Embrace Identity
Build a Better Parent
What Can American Families Learn from Japanese Free-Range Parenting?
Ask the Parent!
“Can I Send My Kid to College?”
Scrotal Recall
Or, I’m a coward and my vasecomy wasn’t all that bad
If True Parent had its own Goodyear Blimp, written across the side would be, âTHERE ARE SO MANY DIFFERENT TYPES OF PARENTS, GUYS!â Itâs true. Some people assume thereâs only one kind of parentâthose who stroll blissfully down the street pushing a doublewide stroller, sipping Stumptown, and beaming gloriously at the adorable progeny who sprang from their loinsâeven though thatâs really not the case.
Here at True Parent, weâre interested in those who donât fit the mold: single moms and dads, gay and lesbian parents, mixed race parents, and trans parents. But there are also people who arenât âofficiallyâ parents, yet still parent the hell out of their particular situationâlike grandparents, adoptive parents, foster parents (see pg. 13), and nannies (see pg. 16).
Regardless of whoâs doing the parenting, one of the commonalities we all share is what I call âthe breakdown,â and itâs the hardest thing to explain to non-parents. For me, it went down like this: Before having kids, I had what some cultures refer to as âa life.â I had hobbies, like spending hours on the internet searching for the perfect softball bat, or a particular issue of a 1950s vintage menâs magazine. I played video- games, tinkered on motorcycles, and wrote a zine about Hollywood actor Lee Marvin. (I actually did this!)
But then I had A CHILDâand every single pursuit (other than changing diapers, feeding, and worrying about accidental electrocution) went out the window. Sure, after the kid went to sleep I found time to guzzle a cocktail and sob quietly into my hands, but otherwise? Forget about it. The toys of my youth had been permanently put away and replaced with something that required 100 percent of my focus.
And surprise! After a few years of pining for my supposedly âlost youth,â I began to realize what Iâd gained. My head was no longer solidly wedged inside my ass, for one thing. Because I had finally learned to care for someone other than myself.
And thatâs âthe breakdown.â Like how boot camp tears away the façade of your old self, and constructs a new (hopefully superior) version. Youâre still you... just a new you. And thatâs something all parents share, or will eventually discover.
So when youâre walking down the street and you see another parent (or grandparent, foster mom, nanny), give them your best ânod of knowingness.â Trust me, theyâll automatically know youâve been there, and done that.