I love my kids, I just hate parenting
What’s the opposite of handy? Handless? That’s what I am.
I can barely hammer a nail. But having kids forces you to do things you wouldn’t normally do, like put together a complicated, 36-piece wooden playhouse you got from Lowe’s. Which is what I spent Sunday afternoon doing.
BECAUSE I LIKE SPENDING TIME WITH THEM!
Recently, Detective Munch got in trouble at school.
He gets in trouble at school every once in a while, but it’s mostly with both the same frequency of trouble and of the same variety of “trouble” that most five-year-olds get into. He doesn’t pay attention to the teachers, he goofs around with his friends and acts silly, he put his fingers in someone else’s mouth. You know, typical behavior.
But last week he did something a little bit more serious, and in an attempt to let him know that such behavior is unacceptable, Mom and Buried and I were forced to lay down the law. Of course, there are only so many ways to discipline a five-year-old, and a lot of the time you end up wondering who’s being punished.
Discipline is a double-edged sword.
You may have noticed that “being tired” is a recurring theme on my blog, because my blog is about parenting, and being tired is one of parenting‘s recurring themes. Yay kids!
I knew – we all knew – that being tired was part of the deal before I had my first kid, and it’s not the tiredness that bugs me. No, my problem isn’t that I’m exhausted, or my constant sleep deprivation; I knew my quantity of sleep would suffer. It’s the quality of sleep I miss the most!
Two kids deep, the little sleep I do get has become a battleground. Every night, there’s a five-year-old in my bed, keeping me awake for no discernible reason, and a baby in my bed, keeping me awake just because he doesn’t want to starve to death!
Together, the little leeches have stolen my sanctuary from me.
Despite the fact that I’m more likely to classify myself as a realist, most people would probably say otherwise.
They consider me a pessimist, especially people who don’t know me well, or don’t share my sense of humor, and a cynic. Which is fine. I turn 40 this year, I’ve long stopped worrying about other people’s misconceptions.
But I do worry about how my children see me. And about the potential negative impact my personality might have on them.
Everyone is always talking about how having kids changes your perspective on things.
They say that when you experience life through the eyes of your innocent children, you appreciate the little things so much more. And I suppose it’s true.
But kids change everything in your life, not merely the way you look at it.