Who knows your child? You do.

Experience, age and years of child rearing have given me an insight that I believe is unique and has shaped the way I am currently parenting.

In those first years of parenting I did what my mom did with me and my brother, mixed with a little of my own intuition and knowledge I picked up along the way. I devoured parenting magazines, and I loved reading anything I could find that would give me information on the latest and best baby products, toys, strollers, car seats.

I was a very young mother, and was constantly judged. I felt that I was under a microscope wherever I went.
Grocery store, department store, and later on it was other parents at their school. I was young, and I looked even younger than I was. It made life difficult.

But I wanted to be a parent, and I wanted to be a good parent, and so I absorbed as much parenting education as possible in any format available. I religiously watched Terry Brazelton, a pediatrician, talk about childhood development on a PBS show.  It was seriously one of my favorite shows at the age of, what, 19 or 20, I guess.

All of this is to say that I've been parenting for many years, and I've always tried hard, but I've also made some mistakes.
One thing I know is that we have to make sure that our children know they are loved, that we care about them, that we want to listen to what they are saying, and that we are always there for them no matter what they do. We also have to set limits and be consistent in those, but we have to know our children, and treat them as individuals.

Recently I encountered someone who hinted that my child needed their direction. I sought this person out for something we needed, so I was more open to hearing what they had to say. And I almost convinced myself that they knew better than I did, and that maybe my child did need a firm hand. I could see that they believed my child needed not only a firm hand, but a militaristic approach--and none of these things were what I was seeking.

My inner voice was nagging me the whole time, and once I was able to come home and process the encounter I realized that I had almost allowed a total stranger to convince me that they know better than I do what my child needs.

I know my child. I know his quirks, I can read him and I know when he's upset, when he's feeling overwhelmed, when he needs to take a break, when his behavior is the result of low blood sugar or the lack of protein, and I know when he needs me to be stern and firm, and when he needs me to just listen.

No one knows him better than I do. No one knows what he needs more than I do. No teacher, preacher, or family friend knows him better than I do.

Parents know their children. Period.