Things ’round here ain’t always pretty as a peach or happy as a lark. I’ve never hidden that on the blog. This parenting gig isn’t easy.
Unless you were my parents. They had it easy.
We all know the challenges and the struggles and the frustrations. We all know the messes and the dirt. Just Google “shit my kids ruined” and you’ll find thousands upon thousands of people who understand #TheStruggleIsReal.
But I don’t mind telling you about the times we snap. I don’t mind telling you that our kids know how to push us to the edge of sanity. Like last weekend.
I had the kids in the truck ready to go for a short hike to a waterfall. We were all buckled. That’s when I noticed the oldest had Crocks on his feet instead of shoes. I shut off the truck, run back in and grab his shoes and back out the door. It took me as long to get his shoes as it took you read that sentence. Yet, when I got back to the truck the youngest is crying because the oldest did something to the youngest because the youngest laughed at the oldest and the oldest didn’t want to be laughed at.
What the hell am I doing so wrong that I can’t leave them for 15 seconds without an assault and battery?
Yet, I know they are good kids. I see how they play with our neighbor’s 2 year old. They are gentle. They are kind. They take him to see our parrot but are careful not to let him too close (she bites). They jump on the trampoline with him until he’s laughing so hard he can’t stand up.
I know they are good kids. I witness their behaviour when we are out to eat. They treat the server with respect. They always use their pleases and thank yous. They ask for their meal of choice with their inside voices so nicely.
I know they are good kids. Their teachers rave about them. They tell us they are sweet and caring. They earn “best bucket filler” awards (that’s the award for doing nice things for others). They earn good grades. They have friends.
I know they are good kids. I look for the good in them. I believe in the good in them. However, sometimes I feel like Obi Wan believing in the good of a little boy named Anakin. We all know how that turned out. Even if he was good in the end, there was so much destruction to get to the end. The (only) difference between Obi and I though is that I don’t know how my boys will turn out. I can only continue the struggle, lead by example, and do what we parents do – keep up the good fight.
So I closed the truck door, closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and promised I wouldn’t kill the kids. Then we went for a hike and that almost made it all better. The youngest was cranky with me because I apparently didn’t know enough about mushrooms.
Thanks to Modern Mommy Madness for inspiring this post and the belief in children’ s goodness.