This Thing Called Parenting
This is one of those posts where whenever I say "you", it's really "me".
You know how before you have kids, you totally know how it will all go when you do have them? You have their names, genders, dispositions, and habits all figured out. You know you'll have a girl first and she'll be sweet, but you won't spoil her. She always have her hair done and her clothes will be cute. And later your boy will come along and he'll be rambunctious and totally boy-ish, always covered in dirt and collecting gross bugs, but he'll also be totally respectful and say things like "yes, ma'am" when you tell him to put his Legos away and go to bed.
TV time, of course, will be slim to none. Same with any sort of electronics, because your children will all love reading and playing quietly with smart toys like blocks and puzzles. They won't hit or yell because though you are a loving, kind parent, you also have set clear boundaries and the children behave accordingly. Your kids always eat the food you give them (all healthy, by the way) and they sleep dutifully through the night from an early age. Your house will be clean because everyone helps out in that department. Your kids will love school and you'll help them with their homework in the evenings and happily send them on their way in the mornings. You're the boss and all the children are totally in agreement with this stance.
You've got it all figured out. Bedtimes. Punishments. Responses. Goals. And because you have a plan, you'll achieve success. You exude confidence.
Fast forward eight years. Expectation has collided with reality.
The dishes and laundry are piled high, but you don't really notice them because it's the toys that make you feel like the walls are caving in. Your daughter, (who came last, btw) is covered in toddler slime (which consists of hardened banana and snot) and her hair hardly resembles anything cute. The tv is on far more than you are comfortable admitting in general society, but you savor every scrumptious moment of peace that it awards you. You made macaroni and cheese for dinner, but compensated by serving equal amounts of vegetables that were "mostly" eaten. There's yelling. There's sibling fighting. There's noisy wrestling and broken furniture. Your children have never called you or anyone else "ma'am" unless forced. One child has probably slept through the entire night fewer times than he has not in his eight years. He's currently scared of everything and you wonder if there will ever come a time when you can sit as a family and watch a live action movie without having an extra body in your bed later that night. Bedtime is laughable, but not because you aren't consistent. You homeschool. I repeat homeschool! So, now it's all your fault if they don't achieve a certain potential and it's like pulling teeth just to get the work done every day. Just about every parenting conviction you once had has been challenged in some way and a few of them you've thrown out the window as being complete crap.
You are not confident at all. In fact, usually, you are totally clueless.
You know now what you once dismissed: Parenting is hard. And you are no expert.
But it's worth it. The sleepless nights. The stressful "teaching moments". The shame of messing up royally. None of it takes away from the wild love you feel for those little stinkers. Who they are (warts and all) is so much better than the little robots you used to dream up. They are real, flesh and blood people with quirks and faults and personalities. They are beautiful little sinners. You treasure their hearts like priceless diamonds. The responsibility is overwhelming, daunting, impossible to achieve perfectly, but somehow, the sacrifice and the pain are all okay.
That's why you grieve for those for whom parenthood has remained an unreachable dream. That's why you mourn for babies lost in the womb or taken from loving arms too early. That's why you pray for children around the world without homes and loving parents.
That's why you're thankful for every moment you spend with them.
Even when they're little monsters.
"Children are such a wonderful way to start people."
You know how before you have kids, you totally know how it will all go when you do have them? You have their names, genders, dispositions, and habits all figured out. You know you'll have a girl first and she'll be sweet, but you won't spoil her. She always have her hair done and her clothes will be cute. And later your boy will come along and he'll be rambunctious and totally boy-ish, always covered in dirt and collecting gross bugs, but he'll also be totally respectful and say things like "yes, ma'am" when you tell him to put his Legos away and go to bed.
TV time, of course, will be slim to none. Same with any sort of electronics, because your children will all love reading and playing quietly with smart toys like blocks and puzzles. They won't hit or yell because though you are a loving, kind parent, you also have set clear boundaries and the children behave accordingly. Your kids always eat the food you give them (all healthy, by the way) and they sleep dutifully through the night from an early age. Your house will be clean because everyone helps out in that department. Your kids will love school and you'll help them with their homework in the evenings and happily send them on their way in the mornings. You're the boss and all the children are totally in agreement with this stance.
You've got it all figured out. Bedtimes. Punishments. Responses. Goals. And because you have a plan, you'll achieve success. You exude confidence.
Fast forward eight years. Expectation has collided with reality.
The dishes and laundry are piled high, but you don't really notice them because it's the toys that make you feel like the walls are caving in. Your daughter, (who came last, btw) is covered in toddler slime (which consists of hardened banana and snot) and her hair hardly resembles anything cute. The tv is on far more than you are comfortable admitting in general society, but you savor every scrumptious moment of peace that it awards you. You made macaroni and cheese for dinner, but compensated by serving equal amounts of vegetables that were "mostly" eaten. There's yelling. There's sibling fighting. There's noisy wrestling and broken furniture. Your children have never called you or anyone else "ma'am" unless forced. One child has probably slept through the entire night fewer times than he has not in his eight years. He's currently scared of everything and you wonder if there will ever come a time when you can sit as a family and watch a live action movie without having an extra body in your bed later that night. Bedtime is laughable, but not because you aren't consistent. You homeschool. I repeat homeschool! So, now it's all your fault if they don't achieve a certain potential and it's like pulling teeth just to get the work done every day. Just about every parenting conviction you once had has been challenged in some way and a few of them you've thrown out the window as being complete crap.
You are not confident at all. In fact, usually, you are totally clueless.
You know now what you once dismissed: Parenting is hard. And you are no expert.
But it's worth it. The sleepless nights. The stressful "teaching moments". The shame of messing up royally. None of it takes away from the wild love you feel for those little stinkers. Who they are (warts and all) is so much better than the little robots you used to dream up. They are real, flesh and blood people with quirks and faults and personalities. They are beautiful little sinners. You treasure their hearts like priceless diamonds. The responsibility is overwhelming, daunting, impossible to achieve perfectly, but somehow, the sacrifice and the pain are all okay.
That's why you grieve for those for whom parenthood has remained an unreachable dream. That's why you mourn for babies lost in the womb or taken from loving arms too early. That's why you pray for children around the world without homes and loving parents.
That's why you're thankful for every moment you spend with them.
Even when they're little monsters.
"Children are such a wonderful way to start people."
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