Knowing It Before Blowing It

In the course of a single week, five of my friends with children said the exact same thing to me in reference to their offspring.

"I need a redo," they said. "If I could just do it again, there are so many things I would do differently."

All of these women have, so far, produced fine children. But I knew exactly what they meant. I, too, am plagued by this fantasy second chance — and my children aren't even in middle school yet. "There are so many habits my children formed before I realized it, or even had a chance to think about the precedent I was setting," a mother of three said. "Then, all of sudden, the window of opportunity was gone and I knew that I'd have to work overtime for months or even years to change the pattern in my house. And by then, of course, the bad habits had already trickled down to all my other children."

Another friend put it more succinctly: "I blew it before I knew it."

The following, in no particular order, lists some of the responses I received from nearly 75 parents to the question, "If you could do it again, what would you do differently?"

I'd kill Barney.

I would tell my daughter when she first started dating the man who became her husband — and then ex-husband — that we all thought he was a jerk.

I wouldn't buy my children iPods.

I'd put a padlock on my bedroom door.

I'd never let them taste macaroni and cheese.

I'd never let them go to bed without brushing their teeth.

I'd never let my babies have pacifiers.

I would only start toilet training after my child wrote me a 200-word essay explaining why he should no longer be in diapers.

I'd never introduce juice into their diets.

I would give them a small allowance after college graduation — but that's it.

I'd put dinner on the table and make a bowl of cereal available if the food was rejected.

I would never let my three daughters hear about Disney princesses or fairy tales.

I'd be more consistent about allowances, and teach my children how to spend their own money responsibly — even at young ages. I wouldn't have given my son a credit card when he went to college.

I would have taken more time for myself while my oldest was a baby, and more time for my youngest when he was a baby.

I'd have board game nights as a weekly family ritual.

I'd be thrilled to hear "again" at the end of a story, and happily read it over and over, no matter how tired I was.

I'd leave the children more often and travel with my husband or friends.

I would spend less time worrying about world events and how they will affect my children, and more time actively trying to influence policies and politics.

I'd have more family activity time and less homework time, even if it meant lower grades and SAT scores.

I'd make reading parts of the newspaper mandatory.

I wouldn't let my 11-year-old watch R-rated movies.

I would take more photos of the children in-between the oldest and the baby.

I would record their voices before all their changes.

I would never let my children take a bottle or sippy cup to bed.

I'd make my children take chess and piano lessons.

I would worry less.

My bedtime routine would be 20 minutes shorter.

I wouldn't wait four years to get pregnant between each child, but have my children one after the other.

I'd be much stricter with just about everything.

I wouldn't be such an over-reactive shrew about the small stuff.

I wouldn't check my e-mail, surf the Web, or talk on the phone with my children around.

I'd go back to work sooner.

I'd be more supportive of my son's career choice.

I'd realize that it's less about better parenting, and more about savoring the time.

I would only work part-time until my children were in kindergarten.

I'd spend more time with my mother-in-law instead of griping about her, because we're losing her ages before I ever thought we would.

I would start having children much earlier in life — even if it meant giving up those romantic weekends in Paris.

I'd be a little less open when discussing drugs and alcohol, and a little more obvious about my disapproval.

I would make more bedrooms in my apartment — somehow.

I'd be home for dinner more often.

I would be more sympathetic to my children when they complained in high school that they had so much work.

I would slow down and enjoy the days of diapers, bottles meals, and naps — instead of wishing they would hurry up and end.

I would move around while my children were young, because now that they're older, it's much more difficult.

I'd have another child.