The other day I published a brief post, with a small mentioning that our children were away for the week. Away at a beloved summer camp. One that has been in existance for 75 years. One that apparently has been recongnized as an elite summer camp (news to me.) After conversing with a fellow co-worker about said camp and all of the 'plans' husband and I had for our kid-free week, the conversartion took a turn. A turn I wasn't prepared for. A turn that marked, well, a turning point.
"You send your kids to a private camp in the summer and a private acedemy during the school year, must be nice to live such a charmed life." Really? Nice curveball. Frankly, I could anticipate being judged for my decision to send my kids to private school, but camp? Seriously?
I'm still trying to connect the dots of how a benign conversation goes from an exchange of weekly plans; a plate of summer happenings, if you will, to this. To a conversation about whether I am doing my children a disservice by wanting them to have more choices in there education. More responsiveness.
So, I wonder. Am I spoiling my kids or just loving them?
And so I muse....
"I guess I assumed that when it comes to life and parenthood we all do things differently, that there are many legitimate and contrasting ways to approach existence and child-rearing.
How silly of me. How silly of me to not see this coming, this visceral and predictable reaction to my words.
Today I am thinking about judgment and whether it can be avoided. I’m not sure it can. As humans, we have the ability to reason and to judge. It is these very critical faculties that define us as a species. We would not survive a day in the world without the capacity to judge – whether a person is trustworthy, an action is safe, etc. To put it very simply (too simply, I reckon) to live is to judge.
Fine. But what about moral judgments? What about judgments about the way other people carry themselves and speak to others and raise their children? What about judgments about things that are not black and white and obvious, but exquisitely gray in essence? What about judgments about areas as complex as choice, as amorphous as affection? What about these kinds of judgment?
I don’t pretend to know all the answers. It may turn out that these judgments are rooted in who we are as people or who we were taught to be. I imagine this is the case. But don’t we also have discretion? Isn’t discretion a kind of judgment? Isn’t it up to us which judgments we articulate and which ones we keep to ourselves, tucked safely in our whirring minds? I think so. I know so.
And when is it okay to voice our moral judgments? Again, I only have a few clues. But I think this is an important question. One worth thinking about. Particularly as it relates to very sensitive topics like parenting.
Parenthood is a messy and treasured land. For the most part, we all live in this land with good intentions. We adore our children and want what’s best for them. We hope that our kids are happy and healthy and safe and grow up to be the same. Every day is an
exercise in effort toward these important ends. And we all take different paths toward these more singular goals, don’t we? Some of us stay home. Some of us go to an office. Some of us home school. Some of us send our kids to private, some to public.
No mater what your choice. It's yours to make. Yours to live with. But one thing we can agree on is
we all work for this decision.
Because parenthood? It’s work. Incredibly important and intangible work. Work that compels us and confuses us. Work that makes us cheer and makes us cry. Work that is never ever over.
And so. I’m not sure this post has a tidy point, but that’s okay. These words – it turns out – are as murky as the topics they tangle. And perhaps that’s appropriate.
If there’s a message here, maybe it’s that we are human and fallible and that we are wired to make judgments. Perhaps it is up to us to step back and evaluate our own judgments when and if they come. To pick them apart a bit and try to discern their origins. In the end, I think harsh judgments are unfortunate and fracturing and, for the most part, spring from insecurity. None of us are perfect.
Maybe just maybe, it behooves us to realize that we are all really more alike than we are different. That we are all trying and failing, thriving and fumbling, living and loving and learning. The best we can."
Our first stop, 
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