I love my kids, I just hate parenting
They say opposites attract. Mom and Buried and I aren’t total opposites, but we do have some significant differences. And we definitely parent differently.
On good days, those differences complement each other. On bad days, they cause conflict. When you have a kid who is acting up, and acting out, the bad days become more frequent.
Especially when you don’t always see eye to eye on how to discipline that kid.
I’m not one for jewelry.
I don’t wear a necklace, and I definitely don’t wear any bracelets. I don’t wear a watch, or a Fitbit; I never even wore a LiveStrong band. I keep it simple. Beauty like this doesn’t need adornments!
But I’ve been wearing an elastic band on my wrist for a little while now. It’s not a fashion statement; it’s a reminder. It’s a reminder that I am too hard on my seven-year-old.
Contrary to popular opinion, I don’t hate my kids.
In fact, some of the time, I downright love the little jerks! They’re fun in very specific, individual ways, which is delightful, and they’re annoying in mostly general, every-kid-is-like-that ways, which is forgivable.
But I do hate parenting, at least some of the time. It’s a tough gig. And referring to it as a “gig” is part of the problem. Because parenthood is not a job. And treating it like one – like a chore to begrudgingly complete – is bad for everyone.
Saying “I told you so!” is not nice.
It’s not gracious, it’s not kind, and it’s certainly not something people like to hear. But that doesn’t mean it’s not satisfying!
In related news: my brother is having a baby.
Like many parents, I always kind of hoped that my kids would absorb decent human values through osmosis.
That just by being around average, decent people who enact and embody basic human decency on a daily basis – like me and Mom and Buried! – they’d eventually become imbued with those intangible qualities we expect good people t have.
But if my 7-year-old’s lack of gratitude is any indication, it hasn’t been working.