The Berenstain Bears & the Trouble With Them: Part II, Papa Bear

So Papa Bear is a problem, too. As an opposing figure to Mama Bear, ever efficient and orderly, Papa is a total screw-up. He's one of the most incompetent fathers in contemporary children's fiction. When Mama is called away to help Cousin Bertha with her baby twins, Papa manages to destroy the house in a matter of hours. In one scene he forgets to open the fireplace flue, and as the house fills with smoke he swats the flames with a feather pillow. His two young children rescue the situation, knowing wisely that water works better than feathers.

In nearly every book Papa Bear is the one who doesn't get it. He still wants Choco-Chums and Sweetsie Cola when everyone else is choosing carrot sticks and raisins. He's the last hold-out on pollution--a modern-day naysayer on global warming--denying until the story ends that Professor Actual Factual may be right after all.

But as in the case with Mama, Papa Bear hits a little too close to home. For fathers today are a bit like him: involved, but incapable of doing it right. Sure, we've got more dads than ever before changing diapers and staying home with their kids. But are we really comfortable with how they do the job, particularly the work that women used to do?

If you send any father with his child to the doctor, I guarantee you that the mother of that child won't be happy with the information, or lack of information, that he brings home. Send him to a school conference and she'll wish she'd gone. The questions that Mom deems important aren't the same ones for Dad.

So what would happen if Papa Bear suddenly starred in a story where he commanded respect, instead of bumbling his way around the periphery of the family? Perhaps he could be seen taking charge or simply listening to his kids. This would get us closer to where we'd like to be, and where we often are when we're not invested in maintaining control.

For this is what it's all about, the grasp to control our children's lives in whatever ways we think possible. We delude ourselves, though, at a cost to all of us. Lives unfold in ways we never imagined, including the lives of our children.

If we can find ways to cede the control, we just might restore the balance we so desperately need.

The Berenstain Bears & the Trouble With Them: Part I, Mama Bear

Though the Berenstain Bears books no longer occupy the main shelves of our family's library, it's not that long ago that I read them over and over again--and discovered that I couldn't stand them. I wasn't alone; I often heard other parents say, "I hate the Berenstain Bears."

They seem like a harmless lot until you catch on to the unfortunate portrayal of Mama Bear. For starters, she's always dressed in the same blue and white polka-dotted dress. It's frumpy and unfashionable, and with her matching cap and roly poly body, she's all Mama and nothing else.

She's got no sense of humor, no secrets or hint of allure, and no surprises in her personality. Sure enough, when she and Papa Bear head out for their second honeymoon, she's dressed in that old familiar blue and white polka-dotted dress.

Moreover, Mama Bear always has the right answers to the family's problems. When Sister starts biting her fingernails in first grade, Mama devises thoughtful, Pavlovian solutions. When she tackles the family's weight problem (without ever acknowledging her own), she trashes the junk food and initiates sensible healthy eating.

The trouble with all of this is . . . it hits close to home. Even though most of us don't look or dress like Mama Bear, we may feel like her, especially when raising young children. It's hard to escape being Mama--even for a moment--when a baby's at your breast, when a toddler follows you into the bathroom, or when a pre-schooler hangs on your skirt and drags it off your hips. It's hard to find time to choose earrings for the day or find something new to wear.

It's easier to pull out that polka-dotted dress from yesterday.

And Mamas today still solve most of the family's problems. Maybe we're genetically hardwired for this responsibility or maybe we don't trust fathers with the task. In any case, the trouble is this: Mama wil eventually meet up with a problem that's too big to solve alone. Then will we see the real Mama, her cap askew, her daisy wilted? Will the title be "The Berenstain Bears and the Depressed and Overwhelmed Mama"?

Don't count on it. It's not a book we'd like to read.