Parenting arms race

I think parenting is like an arms race. That doesn't sound like a very good metaphor (who wants to compare their child-rearing to nuclear weapons?) but I think it is nonetheless true. I think the comparison is particularly apt in the case of first-time parents like myself, because experienced parents already have an arsenal of tactics to use on their foes children.

In the beginning of this conflict, the newborn has an enormous tactical advantage over the parents, who are no more than raw recruits in this generational war. Yes, they may have been through some basic training, but new parents simply can't be adequately prepared to face the harsh realities of parenting. The newborn, in turn, is a wily and quixotic adversary. Some of the newborn's tactics include giving only one warning signal (crying) for a myriad of ills (hunger, tiredness, discomfort, gas, acid reflux, pain, etc.). Additionally, the newborn is unencumbered with the notion of night and day, and can mount a crying attack at any given moment.

Eventually the new parents can put their upper brain functions to good use, and they start to get the upper hand on the child. They begin to discern subtle differences in the crying that tip the baby's hand as to the reason behind the outburst. They learn maneuvers like swaddling and burping to counteract some of the newborn's assaults. They employ their technological advantage, using devices like white noise machines and baby monitors to keep the baby asleep and to enable themselves to get some work done around the house.

And then the real arms race begins. The newborn evolves and becomes a normal baby, with a whole new bag of tricks. The baby changes sleep schedules, laying waste to the parents' carefully constructed schedules. The baby also develops physically, learning maneuvers like rolling over that suddenly prevent parents from leaving the child unattended on a raised surface. At this point the baby also begins to improve one of the most devastating weapons in its arsenal: cuteness. While newborns are often scrawny, cone-headed little creatures, a full-fledged baby is adorable and wiggly. The baby's parents are particularly susceptible to this attack, which helps the child get away with diaper bombs, vomiting, and other baby tactics. Eventually, the parents learn how to deal with the exploding diapers; they learn to wear washable clothes and protective burp-cloths. They begin to get a handle on how to raise a baby.

And then, as it has before, the conflict escalates. The baby starts crawling, making simple things like stairs and electrical outlets fraught with peril. The parents retaliate with baby gates, outlet covers, and other defensive technology. Then the baby learns to stand, wrecking havoc on bookshelves, drawers, and cabinets. The parents respond with latches, baby guards, and higher shelves. The baby then learns to push buttons and turn switches, and suddenly no television, computer, or VCR is safe. The parents respond with more latches, moving the electronics, and vigilant observation. The baby then makes the leap to toddler, making furnitures corners a threat and increasing the speed with which the child may escape the watchful eye of the parents. They respond with corner guards and locked doors. And so it goes, through each developmental stage of the child's life. And each stage, every time one side develops a new tool or tactic, the other side adapts and evolves.

This parenting arms race, of course, does not end in the annihilation of civilization as we know it. In fact, if all goes well, the end result will be a healthy, functioning member of society. But the battle along the way can be just as tumultuous as the military arms race. I find myself squarely in the middle of that arms race. I can only hope that we stay ahead of the Babe enough to avoid totally screwing her up for life.