Latest news with #EmilyEdlynn
Yahoo
16-07-2025
- General
- Yahoo
Time Confetti Is Getting in the Way of Bonding With Your Kids—Here's How to Prevent It
Reviewed by Emily Edlynn, PhD Key Points Time confetti looks like using pockets of time throughout the day to accomplished, which can leave parents feeling burnt out and stretched to their Time confetti can also make it more difficult to be present with your kids Experts say that parents should focus on family time, rather than obsess over being productiveIf you feel like your day is constantly being interrupted by pings on your phone, emails, or other pieces of business you have to take care of, you are far from alone. In fact, most parents feel like they are always 'on' even when they are supposed to be relaxing. Enter the idea of 'time confetti,' which is the ongoing experience of being pulled in a million different directions—all at once. What Is Time Confetti? 'Time confetti' is a term that's been credited to Brigid Schulte, the author of Over Work: Transforming the Daily Grind in the Quest for a Better Life, who has described it as the feeling that you are doing, 'Everything. All at once. All the time.' 'Time confetti is when time is broken into small, fragmented pieces—usually due to technology—where you check emails while building blocks with your toddler, you scroll through Instagram meals while cooking dinner, and you are sending 'quick' texts while trying to read bedtime stories,' describes Alicia Brown, LMFT, therapist and founder of Mom-ing with Intent. Parents may feel like you are multi-tasking and getting things done, but it's more like a pile-up of micro-interruptions that rob you of the ability to feel like you are present in your life, Brown explains. 'I really love this term because I think it absolutely describes what I am seeing happen with parents in my practice every single day,' Alicia Brown says. Why Parents Are Especially Susceptible to Time Confetti Parents in particular are especially vulnerable to time confetti because we are never really 'off.' Parenting is a 24/7 job—and not just in the physical sense. As parents, our minds are always buzzing with responsibilities and technology means we are constantly being inundated with tasks that need attending to, such as school or work emails and household management. Even when parents feel like they have little 'free' moments, these responsibilities are constantly popping up and many of us feel compelled to tend to them. ' "Time confetti is waking up and letting the day run you, instead of the other way around,' describes Jenn Brown, life coach for parents and teens. 'On paper, it may look like there are 'pockets of time,' but those moments are constantly filled with little fires to put out—replying to an email, uploading a photo to the school portal, Venmo'ing for team snacks, checking a reminder before it slips the mind.' Time confetti is basically a dead-end street to burnout, Brown adds. Why Time Confetti Can Be Problematic While it can't always be avoided completely, experts recommend parents make efforts to decrease time confetti in your life. The reason is because time confetti can be detrimental to your mental health, physical health, as well as your relationship with your children. 'Avoiding time confetti isn't just a nice idea—it's a mental health must,' says Brown. When your time is always broken up into these little endless tasks, your nervous system shifts into high gear and doesn't get a chance to recharge. 'Parents end up stuck in a loop of stress, where everything feels urgent, and nothing feels meaningful." There are physical ramifications too When your mental health suffers, it often follows that your physical health might also be impacted. 'I'm seeing exhausted parents who are showing signs of burnout, sleep issues, and emotional dysregulation,' Alica Brown says. Burnout is a specific type of fatigue and depletion caused by being 'on' all the time and never getting a much-needed break. It can include symptoms like pain, trouble concentrating, emotional numbness, and stomach issues. You're less present with with your kids Last—but definitely not least—time confetti can negatively impact your relationship with your kids. 'When we experience scattered time, our engagement with our children becomes what I refer to as 'half-there' moments—you're present, but your mind is somewhere else,' Alicia Brown describes. 'Over time, kids begin internalizing these half-there moments as there's something they're competing with—the phone or inbox, or whatever else demands your time and attention.' Kids may begin to wonder if they're really all that important to you. Over time, lack of consistency and attention can erode trust in the parent-child relationships, she adds. How to Avoid Time Confetti So, it's clear parents to minimize the amount of time confetti in their lives. But how exactly do you do this when you feel as though everyday is hectic? How do you reduce all the pings and notifications and responsibilities and distractions? Here are some expert tips for getting started. Group your scattered tasks Megan Sumrell, productivity and time management expert, suggests mapping out specific times of day that you'll respond to your pings and emails. 'Instead of responding to that school email the second it pings, designate specific time blocks to handle all the small admin stuff that builds up throughout the week,' she suggests. You can even write these times into your family calendar. This helps your family understand when you're available for interruptions and when you aren't, Sumrell says. Use technology to your advantage Alicia Brown suggests finding ways to have technology work for you, rather than against you. 'Set 'do not disturb' hours, collect all notifications after a specified time (but not continuously), or even use an app that blocks your social media during family time,' she recommends. Prioritize what matters If you want to be more present in your life, you need to stop trying to be productive every single minute of the day. That's why intentionally planning your week ahead of time is so important. 'I recognize that parenting means unexpected tasks coming up constantly – which is why planning your time blocks in advance is key, whether you're using a digital calendar or paper planner,' says Sumrell. 'Mapping out those moments of focus time will allow for more free time to connect with your family and much needed rest time when those small pockets of free time arise.' Schedule time for rest Just as it's important to schedule time when you're working or spending time with family, it's equally important to schedule your down time too. 'It's easy to RSVP yes if your calendar has an empty slot, but maybe the two hours between that soccer game and grandma's birthday aren't actually the best time to go on a play date,' says Sumrell. 'That time for rest is just as important as any external commitment.' Remind yourself that it's okay to simply not do anything Sometimes we so used to being productive that we feel like we're failing if we're not constantly completing some task—but your and your family need rest and time to recharge for your wellbeing too. "Your brain needs a minute to reset, and that's not being lazy,' Sumrell says. 'Resist the urge to multitask when you're with your loved ones, and let yourself enjoy the small moments by not checking your phone or to-do list.' You can tell yourself that connecting with yourself and your kids is just as important as any item on your to-do Takeaway Avoiding—or at least decreasing—time confetti in your life is a must, according to experts. But that doesn't mean it's always possible. Additionally, some people find that even when they make an effort to decrease time confetti, their feelings of burnout and exhaustion persist. If you need help learning to manage and delegate responsibilities—or if you need overall support for your mental health and well being—please consider reaching out to a licensed mental health the original article on Parents Solve the daily Crossword
Yahoo
03-04-2025
- General
- Yahoo
Quaker Parents Were Ahead of Their Time
One morning in 1991, I prayed with the fervor that only a tween can muster for one thing above all others: cold Diet Mountain Dew. But all of the cans in my mom's stash were warm. So I tossed one in the freezer, forgot about it, and hours later retrieved the frozen-solid mass. Then I decided to pop it in the microwave. You can imagine what ensued. After extinguishing the flames, my mom asked us kids what we thought had happened. I stepped forward as if approaching the gallows—and she lavished me with praise. For telling the truth. For taking responsibility. Her response might seem surprising, but we're Quakers, and avoiding judgment is pretty on-brand. From where I stand now, I can see that her decision to use positive reinforcement aligns with research on motivating kids, something I've become quite familiar with as a journalist covering parenting and education. Still, for years, I didn't recognize the connection between my faith and the child-development studies I frequently combed through at work. Then, when the coronavirus pandemic temporarily left our public school without enough adults to meet my son's needs, we switched him to a Quaker school. The school is organized around an acronym I'd never heard before—SPICES—that stands for principles I know well: simplicity, peace, integrity, community, equality, and stewardship. Those aren't the only pillars of Quakerism, but they're big ones, and seeing them all together got me thinking. Sitting in the meetinghouse one Sunday morning, after nearly an hour of silent worship, I had a Queen's Gambit moment. Whereas the chess champ saw pawns moving across a phantom board, I saw each child-rearing best practice I'd been writing about line up with a principle of Quakerism. The Religious Society of Friends—'Quaker' being a derogatory term, reclaimed—is a hard faith to explain, because it tries to eschew dogma. It's now possible to be a Muslim Quaker or a Hindu one, or to not believe in any god at all. That said, Quakers all over the world tend to talk about the same principles and take part in some of the same practices. For example, in place of rules, Quakers publish 'advices and queries,' which prompt individuals to make good, considered choices. Attendees of Quaker meetings near me were recently asked to ponder: 'Do I make my home a place of friendliness, joy, and peace, where residents and visitors feel God's presence?' The children's version read: 'In what ways am I kind to people in my home?' Certain expectations underlie these questions—that one should try to be kind, for example—but so do curiosity and an openness to differing answers. As it turns out, leading with questions is a great way for parents to talk to children. Encouraging kids to come up with their own solutions grants them autonomy. And as Emily Edlynn, a psychologist and the author of Autonomy-Supportive Parenting, told me, kids who feel like they have control over their life experience better emotional health, including less depression and anxiety. Fostering kids' autonomy has also been tied to children building stronger self-regulation skills, doing better in school, and navigating social situations more effectively. Best of all, once kids get used to the self-discipline that comes with exercising autonomy, it can become habitual. Give your kids agency in one area, and they tend to 'develop internal motivation even for things that they do not want to do,' Edlynn said, 'because they're integrating the understanding of the 'why' those things are so important.' [Read: The Teen-Disengagement Crisis] It can be scary to trust children with independence. But kids are better problem-solvers than some people might think. When my son, at age 10, asked me if he could play laser tag with friends, I asked him how he could avoid pulling a trigger (in deference to the Quaker value of pacifism). He decided to serve as referee. I was proud of him for exercising 'discernment,' another Quaker value, all on his own, for listening to his 'still, small voice within' and letting it guide him to a solution that satisfied his need for belonging. He is now 13 and recently couldn't decide whether to accept a babysitting job or relax at home. I asked him, 'What do you think tomorrow-you will wish today-you had done?' He picked out stuffed animals to give his charges, spent the evening feeling needed, and had cash the next day when he wanted to buy boba for a friend. Obviously, real damage could come from giving kids complete autonomy, and Quakerism recognizes this. Early Quaker epistles inveigh against permissiveness, and a 1939 text, Children & Quakerism, quotes William Penn, the Quaker who founded Pennsylvania, saying, 'If God give you children, love them with wisdom, correct them with affection.' In other words, pacifism doesn't mean that parents can't set boundaries. As a 1967 book about Quaker education, Friends and Their Children, put it, 'There is a difference in principle between setting an army on the march and carrying a tired and hysterical child up to bed.' So when my son used to leave toys out, I wouldn't clean up for him. I'd prompt him to do so: 'I see blocks still sitting on the floor.' That was usually enough. When it wasn't, I would stage a mini sit-in, and we wouldn't go on with our evening until the blocks were put away—the type of consequence that's crucial for raising considerate kids. If he hollered, I would 'bear witness' to his suffering and 'be with' him, silent but unwavering. In addition to sit-ins, both civic and domestic, Quakers have a tradition known as 'spiritual gifts.' That involves treating individual talents as assets that belong to the community and ought to be developed in ourselves and encouraged in others. For parents, this means focusing on what our children choose to do, are good at, and enjoy. You can't ignore your kids' weaknesses—but you can spend less energy on them. For my youngest's terrible handwriting, that meant aiming for legibility and saving the time that could have gone toward cursive lessons for activities that animate her, such as building boats and airplanes from the contents of the recycling bin. Research backs up this approach. According to Lea Waters, a psychology professor at the University of Melbourne and the author of The Strength Switch, focusing on children's strengths 'has been shown to increase self-esteem, build resilience, decrease stress, and make kids more healthy, happy, and engaged in school.' But perhaps the most important element of Quaker parenting is the edict to 'let your life speak.' In practice, that looks like apologizing to your kids freely, saying please and thank you, and, yes, trying not to shout at them. It means acting in accordance with your values, such as when my grandma took me to pack toothbrushes and soap into 'kits for Kosovo,' and when my kids make PB&Js for our unhoused neighbors or bring games to a family shelter. The idea, supported by common sense and reams of research, is that kids develop empathy by living it alongside their caregivers. What's more, another study establishes that knowing that their parents value kindness above achievement protects kids' well-being. Infused in all of these practices is the conviction that children are not lesser proto-adults, but fellow beings worthy of respect and agency regardless of their behavior. The closest that Quakers come to dogma is the belief, first expressed by the religion's founder, that there is 'that of God' in every person, children very much included. That's why, as Friends and Their Children notes, Quakers try to make children feel 'welcome at the very centre of life'—a concept quite similar to the 'unconditional positive regard' that psychologists today know leads to secure kids. Children who feel valued in this way, and who believe that what they do adds value, generally come to understand that they matter. And a sense of mattering makes kids more likely to be happy, resilient, academically high-achieving, and satisfied with their life, as well as less likely to struggle with perfectionism or addiction, Gordon Flett, the author of the American Psychological Association's Mattering as a Core Need in Children and Adolescents, told me. [Read: Lighthouse parents have more confident kids] So here I am, nearly 375 years after Quakerism's founding, asking my kids questions, giving them bounded autonomy, and nudging them to invest in their strengths and be stewards of their community—all while communicating that their worth is in no way contingent. Put together, these Quaker practices result in a parenting style considered ideal by psychologists: authoritative parenting. As Judith Smetana, a University of Rochester psychology professor whose work focuses on parent-adolescent interactions, explained to me, authoritative parenting is characterized by the effort to warmly and responsively set limits, and to support kids rather than punish them harshly when they overstep those limits. Some people might argue that Quaker parents aren't doing anything special. What is free-range parenting if not oodles of agency? When Quaker parents try to stay calm and acknowledge their kids' feelings when they act out, aren't we just doing what the so-called Millennial parenting whisperer Dr. Becky recommends? In telling my teenage son that I see the packaging from his graphing calculator lying on the table rather than in the trash, am I not just following 'Say What You See' coaching? But pop parenting philosophies can be unhelpful, especially because parents not infrequently misinterpret them. Take gentle parenting. At its best, it encourages parents to give kids the respect and empathy they need to thrive. But gentle parenting, at least as it's presented in Instagram reels, can result in children doing as they please. 'What it really leaves out,' Smetana told me, 'is the importance of structure and being clear about where the boundaries are.' Many parents are left feeling helpless—a common experience among pop-parenting adherents. In the aughts, a friend of mine tried attachment parenting, an approach centered on enhancing the bond between mother and child with, among other practices, maximum physical proximity. She ended up feeling like a failure each time she put her baby down to use the restroom. [Read: This influencer says you can't parent too gently] For new parents, sorting through the good and bad of each of these schools of thought can feel not just bewildering, but impossible. 'These terms come and go so quickly,' Smetana told me, 'and fads in the popular audience don't intersect very well, necessarily, with the research.' It's taken me more than 15 years, during which I've read hundreds of parenting books and academic papers, to piece together which bits of each philosophy are relevant to me. According to Smetana, even authoritative parenting can be of limited use for caregivers, because its advice is so broad. There are lots of ways to be an authoritative parent, which can leave moms and dads (but mostly moms) feeling rudderless. That's where Quaker parenting has stepped in for me, providing a simple way to separate the wheat from the child-development chaff. It gives me plenty to cling to, but its guiding principles are also flexible enough to allow leeway. This isn't to say the religion is perfect. Its past is filled with failures. Many Quakers worked to abolish slavery, but many did not; some were themselves enslavers. The Society of Friends was the first religion to officially condemn that horror, but some meetinghouses—which are known for having benches arranged in egalitarian formations—featured segregated seating for Black members. Quakers also participated in forced assimilation of Indigenous peoples, including boarding schools that stripped children of dignity, culture, and health. Although not exclusively white, Quaker membership in the U.S. is still predominantly so. But even in these shortcomings lies an essential Quaker parenting lesson. We favor queries over strictures because of a concept known as 'continuing revelation,' or the idea that we cannot know all there is to know, and we will always later realize that we were wrong. The principle has helped me cultivate humility and compassion for myself after missteps. Because there can be no one best way in Quaker parenting, I'm freed from feeling like every detail of every decision will lead only to perfect success or abject defeat. Looking back at the Diet Mountain Dew incident, I bet my mom wanted to rail at me. She'd warned again and again that metal in the microwave would spark. But Quaker values urged restraint then, just as they did decades later, when two of my daughters enrolled at schools with grade portals. With just four clicks, I can see how many points they've missed on each test and which assignments they haven't turned in. Snowplow parenting tells me to lean into snooping and send emails to their teachers requesting retakes and extensions. It's sorely tempting. But Quaker principles remind me not just about the value of autonomy, but also that kids need stillness and peace of mind, that pestering them isn't likely to lead to the 'nonviolent communications' that improve connection, and that the goal is for teens to develop a purpose-based identity rather than a performance-based one. So I resist the urge to monitor and intervene—just as research on anxiety suggests I should. When you buy a book using a link on this page, we receive a commission. Thank you for supporting The Atlantic. Article originally published at The Atlantic
Atlantic
03-04-2025
- General
- Atlantic
What Parents of Any Faith—Or None—Can Learn From Quakers
One morning in 1991, I prayed with the fervor that only a tween can muster for one thing above all others: cold Diet Mountain Dew. But all of the cans in my mom's stash were warm. So I tossed one in the freezer, forgot about it, and hours later retrieved the frozen-solid mass. Then I decided to pop it in the microwave. You can imagine what ensued. After extinguishing the flames, my mom asked us kids what we thought had happened. I stepped forward as if approaching the gallows—and she lavished me with praise. For telling the truth. For taking responsibility. Her response might seem surprising, but we're Quakers, and avoiding judgment is pretty on-brand. From where I stand now, I can see that her decision to use positive reinforcement aligns with research on motivating kids, something I've become quite familiar with as a journalist covering parenting and education. Still, for years, I didn't recognize the connection between my faith and the child-development studies I frequently combed through at work. Then, when the coronavirus pandemic temporarily left our public school without enough adults to meet my son's needs, we switched him to a Quaker school. The school is organized around an acronym I'd never heard before— SPICES —that stands for principles I know well: simplicity, peace, integrity, community, equality, and stewardship. Those aren't the only pillars of Quakerism, but they're big ones, and seeing them all together got me thinking. Sitting in the meetinghouse one Sunday morning, after nearly an hour of silent worship, I had a Queen's Gambit moment. Whereas the chess champ saw pawns moving across a phantom board, I saw each child-rearing best practice I'd been writing about line up with a principle of Quakerism. The Religious Society of Friends—'Quaker' being a derogatory term, reclaimed—is a hard faith to explain, because it tries to eschew dogma. It's now possible to be a Muslim Quaker or a Hindu one, or to not believe in any god at all. That said, Quakers all over the world tend to talk about the same principles and take part in some of the same practices. For example, in place of rules, Quakers publish 'advices and queries,' which prompt individuals to make good, considered choices. Attendees of Quaker meetings near me were recently asked to ponder: 'Do I make my home a place of friendliness, joy, and peace, where residents and visitors feel God's presence?' The children's version read: 'In what ways am I kind to people in my home?' Certain expectations underlie these questions—that one should try to be kind, for example—but so do curiosity and an openness to differing answers. As it turns out, leading with questions is a great way for parents to talk to children. Encouraging kids to come up with their own solutions grants them autonomy. And as Emily Edlynn, a psychologist and the author of Autonomy-Supportive Parenting, told me, kids who feel like they have control over their life experience better emotional health, including less depression and anxiety. Fostering kids' autonomy has also been tied to children building stronger self-regulation skills, doing better in school, and navigating social situations more effectively. Best of all, once kids get used to the self-discipline that comes with exercising autonomy, it can become habitual. Give your kids agency in one area, and they tend to 'develop internal motivation even for things that they do not want to do,' Edlynn said, 'because they're integrating the understanding of the 'why' those things are so important.' It can be scary to trust children with independence. But kids are better problem-solvers than some people might think. When my son, at age 10, asked me if he could play laser tag with friends, I asked him how he could avoid pulling a trigger (in deference to the Quaker value of pacifism). He decided to serve as referee. I was proud of him for exercising ' discernment,' another Quaker value, all on his own, for listening to his 'still, small voice within' and letting it guide him to a solution that satisfied his need for belonging. He is now 13 and recently couldn't decide whether to accept a babysitting job or relax at home. I asked him, 'What do you think tomorrow-you will wish today-you had done?' He picked out stuffed animals to give his charges, spent the evening feeling needed, and had cash the next day when he wanted to buy boba for a friend. Obviously, real damage could come from giving kids complete autonomy, and Quakerism recognizes this. Early Quaker epistles inveigh against permissiveness, and a 1939 text, Children & Quakerism, quotes William Penn, the Quaker who founded Pennsylvania, saying, 'If God give you children, love them with wisdom, correct them with affection.' In other words, pacifism doesn't mean that parents can't set boundaries. As a 1967 book about Quaker education, Friends and Their Children, put it, 'There is a difference in principle between setting an army on the march and carrying a tired and hysterical child up to bed.' So when my son used to leave toys out, I wouldn't clean up for him. I'd prompt him to do so: 'I see blocks still sitting on the floor.' That was usually enough. When it wasn't, I would stage a mini sit-in, and we wouldn't go on with our evening until the blocks were put away—the type of consequence that's crucial for raising considerate kids. If he hollered, I would 'bear witness' to his suffering and 'be with' him, silent but unwavering. In addition to sit-ins, both civic and domestic, Quakers have a tradition known as 'spiritual gifts.' That involves treating individual talents as assets that belong to the community and ought to be developed in ourselves and encouraged in others. For parents, this means focusing on what our children choose to do, are good at, and enjoy. You can't ignore your kids' weaknesses—but you can spend less energy on them. For my youngest's terrible handwriting, that meant aiming for legibility and saving the time that could have gone toward cursive lessons for activities that animate her, such as building boats and airplanes from the contents of the recycling bin. Research backs up this approach. According to Lea Waters, a psychology professor at the University of Melbourne and the author of The Strength Switch, focusing on children's strengths 'has been shown to increase self-esteem, build resilience, decrease stress, and make kids more healthy, happy, and engaged in school.' But perhaps the most important element of Quaker parenting is the edict to 'let your life speak.' In practice, that looks like apologizing to your kids freely, saying please and thank you, and, yes, trying not to shout at them. It means acting in accordance with your values, such as when my grandma took me to pack toothbrushes and soap into ' kits for Kosovo,' and when my kids make PB&Js for our unhoused neighbors or bring games to a family shelter. The idea, supported by common sense and reams of research, is that kids develop empathy by living it alongside their caregivers. What's more, another study establishes that knowing that their parents value kindness above achievement protects kids' well-being. Infused in all of these practices is the conviction that children are not lesser proto-adults, but fellow beings worthy of respect and agency regardless of their behavior. The closest that Quakers come to dogma is the belief, first expressed by the religion's founder, that there is 'that of God' in every person, children very much included. That's why, as Friends and Their Children notes, Quakers try to make children feel 'welcome at the very centre of life'—a concept quite similar to the 'unconditional positive regard' that psychologists today know leads to secure kids. Children who feel valued in this way, and who believe that what they do adds value, generally come to understand that they matter. And a sense of mattering makes kids more likely to be happy, resilient, academically high-achieving, and satisfied with their life, as well as less likely to struggle with perfectionism or addiction, Gordon Flett, the author of the American Psychological Association's Mattering as a Core Need in Children and Adolescents, told me. So here I am, nearly 375 years after Quakerism's founding, asking my kids questions, giving them bounded autonomy, and nudging them to invest in their strengths and be stewards of their community—all while communicating that their worth is in no way contingent. Put together, these Quaker practices result in a parenting style considered ideal by psychologists: authoritative parenting. As Judith Smetana, a University of Rochester psychology professor whose work focuses on parent-adolescent interactions, explained to me, authoritative parenting is characterized by the effort to warmly and responsively set limits, and to support kids rather than punish them harshly when they overstep those limits. Some people might argue that Quaker parents aren't doing anything special. What is free-range parenting if not oodles of agency? When Quaker parents try to stay calm and acknowledge their kids' feelings when they act out, aren't we just doing what the so-called Millennial parenting whisperer Dr. Becky recommends? In telling my teenage son that I see the packaging from his graphing calculator lying on the table rather than in the trash, am I not just following 'Say What You See' coaching? But pop parenting philosophies can be unhelpful, especially because parents not infrequently misinterpret them. Take gentle parenting. At its best, it encourages parents to give kids the respect and empathy they need to thrive. But gentle parenting, at least as it's presented in Instagram reels, can result in children doing as they please. 'What it really leaves out,' Smetana told me, 'is the importance of structure and being clear about where the boundaries are.' Many parents are left feeling helpless—a common experience among pop-parenting adherents. In the aughts, a friend of mine tried attachment parenting, an approach centered on enhancing the bond between mother and child with, among other practices, maximum physical proximity. She ended up feeling like a failure each time she put her baby down to use the restroom. For new parents, sorting through the good and bad of each of these schools of thought can feel not just bewildering, but impossible. 'These terms come and go so quickly,' Smetana told me, 'and fads in the popular audience don't intersect very well, necessarily, with the research.' It's taken me more than 15 years, during which I've read hundreds of parenting books and academic papers, to piece together which bits of each philosophy are relevant to me. According to Smetana, even authoritative parenting can be of limited use for caregivers, because its advice is so broad. There are lots of ways to be an authoritative parent, which can leave moms and dads (but mostly moms) feeling rudderless. That's where Quaker parenting has stepped in for me, providing a simple way to separate the wheat from the child-development chaff. It gives me plenty to cling to, but its guiding principles are also flexible enough to allow leeway. This isn't to say the religion is perfect. Its past is filled with failures. Many Quakers worked to abolish slavery, but many did not; some were themselves enslavers. The Society of Friends was the first religion to officially condemn that horror, but some meetinghouses—which are known for having benches arranged in egalitarian formations— featured segregated seating for Black members. Quakers also participated in forced assimilation of Indigenous peoples, including boarding schools that stripped children of dignity, culture, and health. Although not exclusively white, Quaker membership in the U.S. is still predominantly so. But even in these shortcomings lies an essential Quaker parenting lesson. We favor queries over strictures because of a concept known as ' continuing revelation,' or the idea that we cannot know all there is to know, and we will always later realize that we were wrong. The principle has helped me cultivate humility and compassion for myself after missteps. Because there can be no one best way in Quaker parenting, I'm freed from feeling like every detail of every decision will lead only to perfect success or abject defeat. Looking back at the Diet Mountain Dew incident, I bet my mom wanted to rail at me. She'd warned again and again that metal in the microwave would spark. But Quaker values urged restraint then, just as they did decades later, when two of my daughters enrolled at schools with grade portals. With just four clicks, I can see how many points they've missed on each test and which assignments they haven't turned in. Snowplow parenting tells me to lean into snooping and send emails to their teachers requesting retakes and extensions. It's sorely tempting. But Quaker principles remind me not just about the value of autonomy, but also that kids need stillness and peace of mind, that pestering them isn't likely to lead to the 'nonviolent communications' that improve connection, and that the goal is for teens to develop a purpose-based identity rather than a performance-based one. So I resist the urge to monitor and intervene—just as research on anxiety suggests I should.
