Parenthood: The Most Amazing, Wonderful, Rewarding, Frustrating, Pain-in-the-Ass Job that Sucks.

When my kids were little (let's say birth to school-age), I said that I was going to write a book about motherhood and parenting.  Not another one of the mushy, emotional, I-adore-my-angels-who-never-do-anything-to-upset-me-and-I-handle-every-situation-with-grace-and-patience-and-I-am-a-big-fat-liar kinds of books.  I was going to write about the real deal.  I wanted to tell the truth.  Because it really bothered me that we parents--moms especially--have this thing where we feel like we have to lie and say that we completely love being parents and it's the most magical and amazing role that we cherish every second of every day and never get tired from the sleepless nights or the constant repeating or sassing or messes or peeing with an audience or reading the same story seventeen times a day ... because if we ever even slightly hint at any of those kinds of things, that clearly means that we are horrible people.  Horrible, Terrible, Awful People.

But that's not true.  It's OK to admit that sometimes--maybe even a lot of times--parenting sucks.  Is being a mom / dad rewarding? Yes.  Are there joyful times? Yes.  Are our kids wonderful? Usually.  Do we love our children? Absolutely.  Would we go back in time and change our decision to have kids? No. Maybe. Wait, no. Probably not.  I mean, on the good days, for sure not.  Definitely not--especially when they're sleeping and look so angelic. 

Here's the thing:  We're just human. That means we get annoyed, frustrated, exasperated, mad, and tired.  Sometimes--no matter how many books, articles and blogs we read about parenting and doing all the right things to raise the most perfect freaking kid in the world--we will make mistakes.  We yell.  We lose our cool.  We scold.  We say things we shouldn't.  We don't say all the things we should. 

We are human, just like all the other parents out there.  Even the ones who look like they're doing all the right things all the flip-flopping time.  Newsflash:  they aren't perfect parents.  They're just better at hiding their mistakes or they lie more than you and I do.

We need to forgive ourselves and move on.  Plan to do better next time.  Apologize when we know we are wrong about something and get ready for the next mistake.  You and I both know that our next stellar parenting moment is just around the corner.

Take the good with the bad.  Enjoy the happy times and good moments--when your kids share, tell you they love you, help a friend or sibling, put away their toys without having to be told, flush and wash hands after using the bathroom, cuddle with the pet.  Take those all in and bask in your parenting glory ... it won't be long before there will be sighing, whining, eye rolling, negotiations, tantrums and crying to remind you that parenting is the most amazing, wonderful, rewarding, frustrating, pain-in-the-ass job that sucks. 

And that is going to be the title of my book some day.

knowing your kids ...

This week I earned another "Mother of the Year" ribbon. I have many in my collection.

It seems no matter how hard I try sometimes, nor how good my intentions may be, I do very stupid things as a mom. Some days I wonder how I can know my children so well, yet be so oblivious as to how I should take care of them. Am I trying to ruin them or scar them for life??

On Sunday, the kids played outside all afternoon. I had started a little fire in the backyard and the kids roasted marshmallows. They jumped and jumped on the trampoline. Everything seemed fine. Once we came in the house, though, things changed. Austin came down with what seemed to be a flu bug. He was miserable--headache, tired, achy, feverish with a sore throat. I took him up to his room and got him into some warm, comfy pajamas while he was limply lying on his bed, shivering like a maniac--teeth chattering and all. I gave him some ibuprofen and offered him a fudgesicle to help the sore throat. He only ate half of it and wanted to lie down. I tucked him into bed with me in the guest room so I could keep watch over him.

Tim took care of Maya that night so I could tend to my poor, sick little guy. It's terrible for me to say, but I sometimes like it when my son is feeling ill. While I enjoy his usual energy and silliness most of the time, there are days that I just wish he would slow down a bit ... take a chill pill ... relax. That happens when he's sick. He transforms into an incredibly docile, sweet and loving child. It's a nice change for me. For a little while.

So, Austin was not well enough to go to school on Monday or Tuesday. By Tuesday evening though, things were getting better. I figured the bug was about done. He was chipper, jumping around, goofing with Maya, playing like he felt pretty darn good. I knew I'd send him to school on Wednesday. Yeah! Well, Austin came out of his room about an hour or so after I tucked him in (Tuesday night), saying that his ear was really, really hurting. Crap! More ibuprofen and a heating pad, but he was still pretty uncomfortable. Poor guy. Once the ibuprofen kicked in, though, he seemed o.k. and slept fine the entire night. Super! I'll send him to school with medicine in his system and call the pediatrician for an appointment once the office opens. Good plan, right? Not by Austin's figuring. He didn't think he should go to school. He said he still felt "yucky" and his ear was hurting. I figured he was just wanting to stay home and lay around for another day, so I made him go to school. I told him the plan that I'd call the doctor and come get him from school for the appointment. He still resisted going, but I insisted he'd be fine.

The doctor's office had an open slot for us at 3:00. That was a little later than I was hoping for ... at that point, Austin would have practically been in school all day. Oh well! If he felt "yucky" and needed to come home, he'd go to the nurse, right? Wrong. I forgot something really important. Austin handles pain and illness like his dad. He doesn't tell me about not feeling well until he's really, really sick. (He was out jumping on the trampoline, running around and roasting marshmallows all the way up to the point he was ready to collapse with exhaustion and discomfort as he came down with all of this.) Well, by the time I picked him up and we went to the doctor's office, he was nearly in tears his ear hurt so much, and he was back to being achy and tired. He whimpered and cried through the appointment and while we waited in the pharmacy for the prescriptions. My poor little guy was miserable again ... and then he said it--what I was feeling so guilty about at that moment: "I think I wouldn't feel so bad if I could have stayed home and rested one more day."

I almost heard the flourish of trumpets as I received my latest "Mother of the Year" award--practically handed to me by my weeping, sick son. I am a parenting genius!