For a reason I've yet to fathom, I've been asked to speak at a conference on parenting. They want me to talk about “the unique gift fathers give their kids.” This is what I will tell them:

        I dunno.

        No idea.

        Really.

        I am honored to speak. I'll do what I can. But I'm no expert on kid-raising. Of course, neither is anyone else.

        Parents seeking parenting truth from others makes me nervous, especially if the others have a Ph. and a D behind their names. Doubly especially if the Ph.D doesn't have kids.

        I've never read a how-to book on being a father, never watched Oprah for helpful hints, never attended the sort of conference I'm addressing this weekend. I wouldn't know Dr. Spock if he'd introduced himself to me a decade ago at Chuck E. Cheese.

        I'll read up on how to fix a car or plant a rhododendron. I'll read Fodor if I'm going to Martinique or Jim Dulley if I'm weather-stripping windows. These are cut-and-dried matters. There is no gray on changing motor oil.

        Parenting is nothing but gray. To be a parent is to walk into the darkness, hoping your flashlight works. It has nothing to do with helpful hints or practical suggestions.

        The program organizers gave me a copy of an outline made by last year's speaker. It was called “How to Dad.” Oh, really? The author had a Ph.D.

        I think I'll call my outline Trial and Error. Or, maybe, How Not to Screw It Up.
       

Parallel to putting

        It's all feel. Parenting is like putting in golf. It comes down to what feels right. There are fundamentals for good putting. But they're only suggestions. Everyone does it differently. Same with parenting.

        If you are an “expert”, please don't tell me how to “relate” to my children. My kids are not your kids; I'm not you. And whatever you do, do not offer me new-age psychobabble about “self awareness.”

        Parenting is not that complex. It's hard. There's a difference.

        We over-parent now. We mix the messages, cross the wires. Our desire to teach our kids values is compromised by our desire to make them happy. We preach hard work, then buy our children cars for their 16th birthdays.

        We obsess on being good parents, partly because we have more time. Our parents, and theirs, were too busy earning a living to worry much about Johnny's self-esteem.

Have fun and laugh

        A friend tells the story about her toddling daughter, who at an early age expressed an interest in drawing. One day, the kid was doodling on a piece of paper when a friend's husband walked in.

        “Oh my god,” he said, “what month did you introduce crayons?”

        Here's what good parents do: They're there. They're fair. They use common sense, they're consistent, they listen. They teach that actions come with consequences. They love unconditionally. They try not to get spaghetti sauce on their shirts when the Kid Down the Hall has his girlfriend over for dinner.

        Don't compare your kid to someone else's. Have fun. Laugh.

        Know what you don't know. Admit it.

        The first line of Dr. Spock's book is something like, “You know more than you think you do.” Of course, then he spent 400 pages telling us how little we knew.

        Well, forget that. Write your own book instead. And don't try to sell it.

        Contact Paul Daugherty by phone: 768-8454; fax: 768-8330; e-mail: pdaugherty@enquirer.com.

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