Helmets at the Ready

The More They Throw at You, The More Parents Have to Soldier On

By Shannon Kelley Fri Jan 24, 2025 | 01:19pm

I really didn’t know what to write about for this installment. Sure, I could relate some funny anecdote about my son, preferably one that (a) won’t humiliate him, (b) won’t humiliate me, and (c) is easily summarized in a bite-sized morsel of charming wisdom. I could spin a yarn tied to a recent study, the banning of Red No. 3 perhaps, or the fact that Surgeon General Dr. Vivek Murthy hath officially decreed that parenting is perilous to one’s mental health. I might go in the direction of the worry-with-me pearl-clutch — internet porn is always here to serve — or give public voice to my lament that the school board chose, presumably of their own free will, to send our children home for THREE WEEKS in honor of the recent winter holiday.

(Really though, powers that be: Why? Is this our punishment for sending in store-bought cookies for the holiday party? If we promise to bake next year, will you reconsider? Perhaps you could use the entire week we have off for Thanksgiving to ponder the possibility….)

But my heart isn’t in any of that.

Barely two weeks into a brand-new year, and we’ve already seen the unfolding of an unimaginably tragic climate disaster and the coronation of a would-be despot who traffics in cruelty, obscenity, and crime yet was elected by a majority of our fellow citizens.

I’m dismayed, yet too superstitious to posit the natural question: What could possibly be next?

I will say this, though: Parenting while existential alarm bells are ringing from every direction is more than a little bit stressful. When I’m devastated over the thousands of families who have lost everything but the shirts off their backs and the very stark reality that it could happen to any of us, it’s somewhat difficult to pivot into the place of passion that generally informs my speech regarding the importance of brushing one’s teeth multiple times a day. When I’m worrying over the spread of misinformation, the threat of oligarchy, the crumbling of democracy, it’s a little hard to get myself into the headspace of homework. When I want to curl into a quivering ball of nerves, it’s challenging to just … play ball.

The funny thing though, as I likely don’t have to explain to any other parent out there, is that I still do it. I issue the lectures, help with the homework, play the ball (which, in the case of my son, at least, is all of the balls).

We all just do.

It’s not even a choice. It’s way more primal than that. We endure the tragedies, we find a way to explain them and to comfort our kids even while they’re happening, and yet (and yet!) we do all this while also making sure to feed them a healthy meal, get them into the shower (okay, maybe), read them a story, and tuck them into bed on time (ish).

The beauty (and yes, Vivek, the difficulty, too) of parenting is that no matter what else is going on, we are still, and always will be, parents. There’s comfort in it. In comforting them. In doing our duties, and controlling those tiny little bits we can control. The world may be burning all around us and in every possible way, but when we send our kids out into it, you better believe we’re going to make sure they’re wearing their helmets.

About the Author: A Pushcart Prize nominee, Shannon Kelley’s work has appeared in Elle, The Washington Post, Vogue, Aeon, and others. When not busy momming or working her day job at the Santa Barbara International Film Festival, she can be found cooking, reading, or putting the finishing touches on her debut novel. She writes about books very irregularly at shannonkelley.substack.com.