Entry 06: When Friends Are Better Than Therapy

On parenting, judgment, and an old friend in Brighton, England

A quick, whole-hearted welcome to the new friends who have found their way to TIME FOR DINS. I’m so happy you’re here, and excited to share stories and recipes with you. Today, I’m sharing a story from our family’s world-schooling trip across five countries this past year. You can dip into previous entries here: Field Notes From An Adventure Chef.

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Veggie lasagna for eight in Brighton, England

More than once as a parent, I’ve wished someone would say, “I see you doing your best. What can I do to help you?”

Far more helpful than being told, "Have you tried just saying no?" or “you shouldn’t have given in that one time your child was screaming when they were 2."

Judgement is one of the most difficult parts about raising children in a nuclear family and a culture that lacks a cohesive approach to parenting.

In early hunter-gatherer societies, and in modern communities where children are still raised by “the village,” a shared worldview allows for adults to operate from the same set of agreements, values, and principles, and above all, to step in and support each other.

Today, the only true model we have for parenting is the hazy recollection of our own upbringing. And as humans, programmed for progress, we intend to improve on that, thank you very much.

Otherwise, as parents, we’re left to navigate the countless perspectives and strategies for handling everything from basic emotions to meals, screen time (god, the screens!), and elementary math.

And when you have a child that requires more support, on top of all the other pieces you’re trying to hold together, it can be a nightmare trying to find answers and solutions in our deeply fragmented medical and educational systems.

Trying to explain or defend your child’s behavior or what they need, when you’re not even sure yourself yet, inevitably draws judgement.

It can be lonely and alienating.

Which is why when we arrived on the doorstep of a college best friend, Danielle, in Brighton England, I received a much bigger gift than hosting our family for the weekend.

Danielle and her family gave us empathy, humor, and the opportunity to share the intimacy of behind-the-scenes family life where we all had full permission to be ourselves.

She, her husband Rich, and their two kids greeted us in the entry of their home, a similar, multi-story townhouse to Pippa’s.

Though Danielle and I had been friends for 20 years, it had been 10 years since we last saw each other, shortly after her first child was born. We then disappeared into our respective caves of becoming new parents and raising littles, with the occasional phone call or text every few years. Our children had never met, but we had shared enough about them to suspect that they’d get along beautifully.

We prepared our children by exchanging pictures and bits of strategic information. Did you know that one of Danielle’s kids also loves gymnastics, and the other has a 3D printer and knows how to create designs from scratch?

Within a few minutes of awkward hellos, the kids were cartwheeling around the house setting up a vet shop, planning a dance performance, trying a new video game Rich had programmed, and begging him for cans of Diet Coke from his not-so-secret office stash.

I followed Danielle into the kitchen, where she was halfway through preparing a veggie lasagna. As she mentioned in Episode 02 of Dinner Last Night, this dish is a staple in her house for several reasons: It satisfies her son’s vegetarian diet, while simultaneously hiding vegetables and delivering a protein-punch.

Bobby and Rich wandered into the kitchen, and we poured celebratory drinks while getting the dish in the oven.

The conversation naturally turned towards our children.

I asked tentatively, “Do you guys just lose your shit sometimes?”

They seemed so calm and cool, able to laugh at situations that could easily feel dark.

“Oh yeah!” Rich said enthusiastically. “Do you? You’re so patient all the time.”

“Um, YES!!!” I laughed. “Ok, so we’re all normal, right?”

There was a resounding “YES!” and clink of glasses.

It was such a relief to know that I’m not the only parent sometimes reduced to yelling, crying, or fits of rage.

Danielle confided that being together that first night in her kitchen was better than therapy. We rarely have the opportunity to parent side-by-side with another family who faces similar struggles. And yet, together, we could laugh about it.

The lasagna was ready, and Rich announced dinner in his booming British accent. A flurry of footsteps cascaded down the stairs to the table. There were complaints about the level of spice, the texture, and flat-out refusal to eat, aside from one kid who enthusiastically devoured their plate.

Eventually, the plates were cleared and we played a heated match of Werewolf -- a supernatural rebranding of Mafia, which felt about right for the hour -- before trundling everyone off to bed.

Once the kids were asleep, the grownups went next door to the pub. Danielle shared with me that witnessing my struggles as a parent made her “love me even more,” because she could see “the effort I put into being an awesome mom.” I feel wholeheartedly the same about Danielle.

“And look at us now!” I said. “Our kids are old enough to be home without us for an hour or two!”

We toasted to that.

Over the next two days, we would all be privy to moments of breakdown, and ready to step in for each other.

To be our children’s village.

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Stay tuned for next week’s recipe: Vegetarian Summer Lasagna with Corn & Spinach

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