Family Practice: Toeing the line
Thursday, August 19th, 2010Despite my coming of age in the rule-bending, laissez-faire era I shared with the likes of Kurt Cobain, I have become comfortable enough with convention that I am now ready and willing to play within the confines of any given system. Just give me the laws of the land and I’ll follow them. I want to live honestly and with integrity. I want to do the right thing.
One would think that such a willingness toward conformity would make the world a simpler and more manageable place. One would think that happily agreeing to “this is what we do and this is how we do it” would make one happy and agreeable. Yet, in reality, living by the rules is a confusing, frustrating and exhausting way to play the game of life.
Something as seemingly simple as hand washing, for example, comes with so many more strings attached than just sticking your hands under running water for 30 seconds. There’s a semi-complex right way to do it: turn on the faucet, furiously scrub with soap while singing “Row, Row, Row Your Boat” twice in your head, grab a paper towel to first use as a drying device and then immediately re-fashion the paper towel into a germ barrier between your ready-to-perform-surgery, perfectly-washed hand and the assumed-to-be-germ-infested faucet handle. However, in a freely-speaking country smack dab in the middle of the information age, even something as basic as hand washing comes with well-publicized conflicting viewpoints.
The hand washing system is based on the medical community’s rules, which offers nagging opposing questions even within its own system. Won’t fighting germs with such constant vengeance also keep me less immune and give those germs even more power than they would have otherwise? Won’t such repeated washings strip away at the precious epidermis that is meant to bar such viral and bacterial invaders in the first place?
Furthermore, environmental rules beg me into a completely different direction: turn off the water as soon as humanly possible instead of leaving it running until you have the impenetrably protective force of a wet paper towel in hand to fight any faucet germs. In fact, my trying to do right by the environment pulls me in at least two directions each time I so much as clean out the medicine cabinet. Do I empty expired bottles down the drain and risk contaminating the water supply, throw the bottles away in the trash without emptying them and shirk my duty to recycle or do I hold onto them until the next medication disposal drive hoping that my kids don’t stumble upon them first? Attempting to play by the rules doesn’t make life easier; it makes it much more complicated and stressful.
Attempting to play by the ever-rotating rules of parenting, with the health, safety and general well-being of your children hanging ever so delicately in the balance, is even heavier on the do-the-right-thing pressure and is enough to turn a formerly reasonable, mild-mannered person into a messy heap of self-doubting nervousness. Should I hide my children’s skin from the sun’s harmful rays or let them bask in that all-important shower of vitamin D enhancer? Does the vitamin D enhancer still come through if I put sunscreen on them? Are the effects of the chemicals in sunscreen even worse than the effects of the sun itself? Such a questioning situation is just one of a seemingly infinite number of parenting scenarios we must confusingly face each day with little chance of gaining any confidence that we are doing the right thing.
Why must the modern, sophisticated, guideline-focused world come with so many more questions than definitive answers? Each corner of concern, be it medical, environmental, social or otherwise never quite seems to align just right with all of the other corners. The abundance of mixed signals received by and the additional stress put upon those of us struggling to follow the rules are often enough to make us want to give up on rule-following all together.
When I notice people happily walking around carefree with their germy hands and their sunscreen-free, vitamin-D-laden kids, I wonder if ignorance and/or a “Who cares?” attitude really is bliss. Witnessing such an untroubled approach to the world when fighting the endless battle of trying to figure out just what the right thing is makes me want to return to the much more relaxed state of 1990s flannel and indifference.
In the words of the late Mr. Cobain, I sometimes would just rather say, “Oh well, whatever, nevermind.”
Shannon and her husband Michael are raising three children in Sylvania.






