Yeah, I know the title sucks. And it's depressing. And many would argue with me. But that's how I'm feeling at the moment, so that's what you're getting.
There is so much at stake with parenting -- health, education, character, value system, beliefs, behavior, consciousness; the ability to see another's point of view, the necessity of helping them develop into people you would want to know as adults. Most of the time, being responsible for all that is just plain overwhelming, and I go at it with gusto because I don't want to look bad. (Let's face it, even if we know better, we tend to blame parents for their unlikeable, irresponsible adult children. I don't want that blame.) Sometimes, however, it just bores me to death.
I'm tired of the monotony of it all. Making three meals a day -- every day. Doing the laundry -- every day. Overseeing the homework (battle) -- every day. Monitoring the sibling rivalry and arguments; scheduling playdates and nagging about chores and music practice. Overseeing application of sunscreen. Making sure shoes still fit, that outgrown clothes have been washed, packed up, and given away. Sorting through the old toys to give those away, too. Making sure the kids brush their teeth and floss and rinse with flouride rinse and take that flouride tablet every night. Remembering the vitamin too. And teaching them to eat plenty of fruit and veggies, and trying (unsuccessfully so far) to convince them that McDonalds, Taco Bell, and Pizza Hut are really not good for them and that it is advertising and additives that convince them that those are "good" foods. Teaching them that you can't believe everything you read. Or see. Or hear. Or taste. Teaching them to resist peer pressure. Helping them not grow up too fast, but hoping they grow up fast enough to deal with the world out there. God, it's just too much!
As I write this, the boys are having one of their daily wrestles. I've been told by adult male friends that they played this way with their brothers too. And that they survived some scrapes, falls, and even broken bones. Inevitably, one boy (usually, but not always, the younger one) will start crying. I'll go in to see what gives, and they will stop their wrestling and each go to some other activity. It's a daily ritual that I hate, because I fear one of them will really get hurt. But I can't seem to stop them from wrestling, and I hear such behavior is "normal." So when one of them ends up in the ER with some sort of injury, will it look "normal" to the doctors? Or will I be automatically a suspect parent for having a hurt child? THAT is what I worry about the most.
Let's not forget the arguing. In this household at least, that's a daily ritual too. I did not give birth to easy-going, flexible children. I gave birth to kids with serious minds of their own. So there's lots of pushback to my attempts to keep them organized, clean, educated, musically literate, polite and well-nourished.
I wish I would say that I think I'm winning, but so often I suspect I'm not. I just hope time proves me wrong.
Nobody said parenting was easy. But I really thought it would be a *tad* bit easier than this.
- My interests include veganism and vegetarianism, health, ethics, politics and culture, media, and the environment. I have three kids; I teach college part-time, study piano and attempt to garden. I knit. I blog on just about anything, but many posts are related to my somewhat pathetic quest to eat better, be more mindful of the environment, and be a more responsible news consumer. Sometimes I write about parenting, but, like so many Mommy bloggers, my kids have recently told me not to. :) Thanks for reading.