Being a parent these days is not the easiest thing in the world, given the constant stream of scare the bejeebers out of you child abduction alert stories and the rampant advertising blitz between cartoons that lead your kids to beg you to buy, buy, buy.

One of the hardest things for us, as older parents who — through the magic of fertility hell — didn’t have our miracle until much further down the career path is that we can afford to buy and do things neither of us could have done when we were kids. (Mr. ReddHedd and I both come from the decidedly blue collar side of the tracks for the most part.) 

Although we try and be careful about not buying too much, sometimes it’s a fine line between getting something fun and indulging our Peanut to the point of excess. (You should see our DVD collection of fun movies, although honestly some of those are for us, too.)

When I read this in the NYTimes though, I was horrified:

The $10,000-camp universe appears to be rife with what mental health professionals are now calling “affluenza,” a social pathology that, they say, is rampant at a time when getting and spending — a lot — have become our nation’s most cherished activities, and when purchasing power has become, to an unprecedented extent, almost the sole source of many people’s status and identity. 

In our society, you don’t have to be wealthy to suffer from affluenza. Its symptoms — “debt, overwork, waste, and harm to the environment, leading to psychological disorders, alienation, and distress,” in adults; “lack of motivation … apathy, laziness, or failure to commit to and achieve goals … overindulgence and attitudes of entitlement” in children, according to the New York University Child Study Center (pdf), are pervasive — and no one is immune.

For affluenza is not just a constellation of symptoms. It is an ethic, a play-the-system, lie-and-cheat-your-way-to-what-you-want, don’t-let-the-peons-stand-in-your-way ethic of amorality. You rock, kid, parents teach. And you — alone — rule.

This ethic drives behavior — like the behavior of the wealthy parents profiled in The Times who, flouting camp bans on cellphone use, sent their kids off with two phones, so that, if one was confiscated, there’d still be a spare for secret calls home. And it also permeates social attitudes and policy.

Yet if affluenza, in greater or lesser form, has infected wide swaths of the population at large, one group — the children of the rich — appears to be particularly susceptible to its ravages.

Many studies have shown positive trends among American teenagers in recent decades regarding problems like teen suicide, pregnancy, substance use and violence. Yet upper middle class kids appear to be floundering, outpacing their peers in rates of cigarette smoking, depression, alcohol and drug abuse, anxiety, rule-breaking, and psychosomatic disorders like headaches and stomach problems, writes Madeline Levine, a clinical psychologist in California’s wealthy Marin County, in her 2006 book, “The Price of Privilege: How Parental Pressure and Material Advantage Are Creating a Generation of Disconnected and Unhappy Kids.”

Then, I went back to the original article on which this discussion was based, and I was even more appalled.  Holy crap — who are these people?!?  

When I picked The Peanut up from preschool yesterday afternoon, I had been mulling these articles over in the car, wondering if we had irretrievably ruined her 5 years of life by over-indulging her whims and fancies and setting her up for a serious case of "affluenza" because she’s our only child and we do spoil her a bit.  

But when I got to school, one of her teachers pulled me aside to let me know that a new child had joined the class and The Peanut had walked right up to the kid, introduced herself, reached out her hand and held the other child’s and said, "Being new is hard. I’ll be your friend."

Guess we’ve been doing something right after all. Maybe I should trust in the fact that we talk about being kind, and show her with our own actions how to think about the needs of others. Reaching out can be a good thing — and I’m so thrilled she’s learned how to do that already. Then again, we haven’t hit the teen years yet, have we?

What’s been going on in your world? Do tell. Pull up a chair…

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