Thank goodness for the New Yorker

The very second, almost, that I was going to castigate my terrible parenting in front of you all comes along an article in the July issue of the New Yorker magazine.

“Why are American kids so spoiled?” speaks to the nature of today’s U.S. parents to indulge, baby, pamper and coddle their offspring. Spoil rotten, to the point of making some pretty awful human beings, actually.

This could not have come at a better moment for me.

Here’s the dealio. My youngest, Miss TAB, is in the Walla Walla Community College’s Children’s Summer Theater production, “Fairytale Palooza,” where she is doing a bang-up job in the first of two plays,  “The Princess King.”

It’s her debut in a professional acting gig with actual speaking parts and we’re all really proud of how she has stepped into her role with gusto and commitment.

This whole theater project, which has going for decades, is a wondrous work. Director Connie Loomer — whom one mom referred to as “the child whisperer” — builds each actor up, up, up with nonstop encouragement and good cheer. Those kids are 10 feet tall when they walk around the China Pavilion during performances. Even the third-graders.

Parents and others coach, costume, cajole and organize the cast. Over and over again during a month of rehearsals and four nights of performances.

Here’s the deal. I’m not one of those parents. I feel really good when I get Miss TAB picked up on time. I can’t sew so I didn’t raise my hand for that. Nor did I paint or saw or hammer or sell tickets.

Pathetic? Not yet.

When asked to bring treats for concession sales, I decided to let TAB and her sister bag up pretzel nuggets. In snack baggies.  That’s real pathos, although I made the “cooks” wash their hands thoroughly. And my counters get disinfected daily. In case you wondered.

I didn’t even buy bakery goodies and pretend I had done it myself.

I’m also not going to sit in on every performance, which begin at 7 p.m. nightly and go through Saturday. I’ve heard that lots of parents do this, go to each show and beam their love to their children. I’m not even going to be there Saturday night, for the big award presentations and cast party. Because I’m off visiting another child that day, but still …

I was feeling mighty low, realizing I’m never going to be accused of over-parenting. Feeling like I don’t stack up to other theater parents. Not even close.

Then I read the article, which my almost-son posted on Facebook. Here was part of the soothing balm of wisdom I needed:

Madeline Levine, a psychologist who lives outside San Francisco, specializes in treating young adults. In “Teach Your Children Well: Parenting for Authentic Success” (HarperCollins), she argues that we do too much for our kids because we overestimate our influence. “Never before have parents been so (mistakenly) convinced that their every move has a ripple effect into their child’s future success,” she writes. Paradoxically, Levine maintains, by working so hard to help our kids we end up holding them back.

“Most parents today were brought up in a culture that put a strong emphasis on being special,” she observes. “Being special takes hard work and can’t be trusted to children. Hence the exhausting cycle of constantly monitoring their work and performance, which in turn makes children feel less competent and confident, so that they need even more oversight.”

Now I see I am making Miss TAB resilient and strong. She’ll work to communicate her character to the audience in general when my fanny is not taking up an orange seat. She’ll know she needs to be responsible for her costumes and props.

Still, there is no excusing those pretzels, I know this. Please go to “Fairytale Palooza” at Walla Walla Community College, where you will get the treat of two whole plays for the price of admission.

At intermission, go buy a treat. Fine if you don’t want to buy my pretzels, but don’t tell me about it later. Instead, tell me how mature and independent my daughter looked, how brave and calm and not hovered over.

I’ll feel better.