I love my kids, I just hate parenting
I’m the first to admit that I’m still figuring out how to parent, especially when it comes to my first-born. He has ADHD, and there are aspects of the condition, and the way it influences his behavior and personality, that I still don’t understand.
But every once in a while, I gain insight. I make strides. In understanding it, I mean. Not necessarily in parenting it!
My first kid was supposed to be born on my birthday. Instead, Detective Munch landed six days later – the day before my anniversary. Disrupting things since day one.
Today, he turns 11, and 9 years after I wrote a blog post called “Top Ten Reasons Why I Hate My Son” (see my stories), he’s still ruining my life. But as he’s developed into a full-fledged human being with a personality, opinions, and interests of his own, the ways he ruins my life have changed.
This is my “we’re on vacation ” philosophy.
On Monday, Mom and Buried took The Hammer to the playground.
They ran into a pre-K classmate and my 5yo was so PSYCHED you’d have thought he’d fallen in love with Katie Holmes! He spent the next few hours running around like Tom Cruise on Oprah: having the time of his life (and freaking everyone else out).
Who could blame him?
I’ve been a father for almost 11 years, but I haven’t felt like one for nearly that long.
“Imposter syndrome” refers to the feelings of doubt one has about their abilities and accomplishments, and brings with it the fear of being exposed as a fraud. It’s usually mentioned in regards to one’s professional life (which: YES), but I actually feel it more frequently as a parent.
Every morning when I wake up – often forcefully, thanks to my toddler – I’m starting from zero. I live in perpetual fear that my kids are suddenly going to realize I have no idea what I’m doing.