The art of parenting

The boys bound into the house after school and greet their mom. To their delight, a gift has arrived—Colt’s new baseball bat. Dakotah, 11, and Colt, 9, give the bat a whirl. In the living room. Amongst objects of art. Made of glass.

The boys’ mom does not appear tense. She does not yell, “Knock it off, boys, not in the house!”

She watches them swing for a few seconds. Then they’re off to get ready for Little League practice.

“A picture-perfect home belongs as a snapshot in a magazine,” says Laura Ramirez, the boys’ mom and author of Keepers of the Children, a parenting manual that fuses child development theories with Native American ideas about nurturing. “Children can’t feel safe if they’re always afraid that if they breathe wrong, someone’s going to yell. … We have some breakable stuff in here. Our family code is that people are more important than things.”

It’s true—a visit from a reporter who’s here to talk about parenting would put any mom on the best of behavior. But I get laid-back vibes from Ramirez—a feeling that this isn’t an act. The denim-clad strawberry blonde seems comfortable with her tousle-haired offspring. And they’re polite, active boys—not shy, not loud.

Parenting, Ramirez theorizes, centers around helping your children become who they are—and, in the process, discovering a thing or two about yourself. Her favorite metaphor: Your child, at birth, is an unpolished piece of turquoise. Your job is not to shape, chip or break this gem. The art of parenting is all about polish.

Each member of the Ramirez family owns a turquoise pendant. Each retains its own character.

“The Creator gave each of us a special gift,” she says. “It’s the parents’ job to bring that out, not to make the child conform to what we want or to live out our dreams vicariously through our children.”

Babies are born with a natural sense of themselves, Ramirez says, that can be driven out through systems of rewards, punishments and failed communications.

“They come into the world, cry when they’re hungry and giggle when they’re happy,” she explains. “It’s a parent’s job to make sure this authenticity is preserved, to draw out what’s there. The child becomes more and more himself instead of more alienated.”

Some confuse discipline with punishment, Ramirez says. Using behavior modification techniques can backfire.

“Punishment is what we use to raise little robots—to train children to obey, like dogs,” she says. “To discipline … is to invite your children to become your disciples. You need to be a leader worthy of following.”

Conversation is one key. Talk with your kids, she says. Listen to what they say.

Her book, which won a Northern California Publishers & Authors award, includes advice on giving your child a “spirit name” alongside Erik Erikson’s eight stages of the life cycle and Bill Harris’ four stages of learning. Ramirez has a bachelor’s degree in psychology from the University of Nevada, Reno. Her husband is a psychotherapist and a member of the Pascua Yaqui tribe.

While her parenting task seems smooth now, Ramirez acknowledges she hasn’t encountered the individuation struggles of the teen years. She’ll cross that bridge soon—and plans to write another book or two.

“Teens are kind of like the Nevada weather,” she says. “You wake up and don’t know what you’re going to find.”