I love my kids, I just hate parenting
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My son has a Band-Aid fetish. (Don’t get weird; he’s four.) The dude loves wearing Band-Aids. For any reason. For no reason. FOR ALL REASONS. (It is weird, just not in that way, pervert.) Here are the top five “reasons” he’ll ask for a Band-Aid: Because Boo-boo! Actual bleeding There’s a chance at some pointRead more about [LINK] My Son, Road House, and Band-Aids[…]
Part of the reason I started this blog was to prove that it is possible to have kids and keep some semblance of your pre-parent life, and some semblance of your pre-parent personality, and some semblance of your pre-parent vocabulary.
In my case that mostly meant, respectively: going to bars, concerts and movies; being a cynical, sarcastic jerk; and swearing a lot. If you read my blog, you already know I’m still a cynical, sarcastic jerk who swears a lot.
But I’d be lying if I didn’t admit to some attrition. Parenting changes you, that’s obvious. You’re a shell of the person you used to be. I don’t even know who you are anymore.
Now let’s find out how much it has changed me, with a good old-fashioned Q & A!
A few weeks ago, I questioned whether I am a good parent. My answer was no.
Both before and since I posted that piece, I’ve been told I’m a good dad, by family members, by online acquaintances, by total strangers who read my blog and follow my Facebook page.
But I don’t believe the hype.
Not because they’re wrong; despite my hand-wringing, I’m probably a pretty good dad. (And even if I’m not, it probably doesn’t matter.)
Because they have no idea.
I’m kind of a big deal. But you already knew that. I mean, I’m regularly featured on Scary Mommy.
Of course, even if I weren’t a world-renowned blogger whose diatribes about how living with children is like being in prison have been translated into multiple languages and who has subsequently been hated-on by people on multiple continents, I’d still be pretty damn important. Because I’m a parent.
And if kids are our most valuable resource, then parents are priceless.
Except we’re not. Because parents are overrated.
Being a parent is hard.
You start from scratch every day and run until you’re empty, hoping that you’ve made a dent, that you did something right, that one of your lessons actually sticks. One of the intentional ones.
But you won’t know for a while. Not for years, not truly. And the lack of feedback, direct or otherwise, makes the job even harder. It’s impossible to know how well you’re doing and thus it’s very easy to succumb to self-doubt.
This is why judgment from other parents is so obnoxious; it’s redundant. Every decent parent already constantly questions their own parenting.