essays – parenting

Rules of Order

I freely admit, here and now, that the older I get the more I feel the need to impose order on the chaos in my life. I also admit that the universe tends to laugh at me when I get like that. Having a 4-year-old son makes it very clear that I’m not in charge of things in my part of the world, and the universe continues to fight my desires for order at almost every turn.

Rules have always been a big part of my life, and much of my success as a professional has been due to my willingness and ability to follow rules – those from employers, from computers, and from organizational bylaws. I now find myself in the role of “rules leader” for my son as he reaches the point where rules are a big part of his life, too. Every day, he hears “no” and “don’t” and explanations of the way things are supposed to work. Much of this he takes in stride, but every now and then I can tell he’s heard way too many rules for one day. That’s right about the time he utters the phrase, “I’m in charge.” I think that’s his way of turning the rules around to his favor, and it becomes the only rule that counts in his mind. It gives him a feeling of power, which, when you think about it, is the basis of all rules, isn’t it? Rules are set by those in power, one way or another: those who came before us, those who lead us, those who watch over us. And we usually follow the rules that are established for us. They give us a sense of order, of knowing what course to take through each day.

Things would be so different without rules. But would that always be a bad thing? Maybe sometimes we need the freedom to explore the disorder around us. My son seems to thrive amidst a bedlam of scattered toys. It’s all I can do to keep from constantly putting the piles of trucks and trains away – a fight I don’t always win with myself. But, just as sure as I start to gather things up, he proves to me that he can work with all the different parts together. “What’s wrong with trucks running on the train tracks if they fit? The trains don’t mind.” You can’t argue with the logic of a 4-year-old. Sometimes you just have to let things go where they’re going to go.

Which leads me to the subject of where things go. Organization is another of those elusive aspects of life with a small child. Oh sure, you can try to create systems for managing all the toys, clothes, shoes, books, sippy cups, plastic bowls and other items that tend to collect around the edges of your life, but you’re never truly in control of the clutter. I don’t care how many of those TV shows about organization you watch or how many clear plastic containers you buy to compartmentalize your stuff, the three-foot-tall embodiment of chaos who lives with you will sweep through the house at some point in the day and force you to rethink things. I guess you have to decide what’s more important in your life. Are you driven by some false hope for a clean and uncluttered world, or can you embrace the blessing of the sticky, messy and utterly unkempt reality that kisses you goodnight? The answer each of us has to that question may ultimately divide us more as a people than politics ever will.

So for me, as much as I’d like to be one of those parents with pristine white couches and neatly-laid-out lives, I think I’ll take the life I’ve got. It may not be well-ordered and I may not always be in charge, but I think it will be a lot more fun to grab a handful of crayons and write new rules with each passing day instead of walking a path drawn in permanent ink.