I love my kids, I just hate parenting
My son got hit in the face with a baseball the other day.
This would have been terrible on its own, but the fact that it happened right in the middle of me scolding him for being a pain in the ass made it even worse.
It’s not easy being a disciplinarian when your kid is crying in pain.
Disclosure: This post is in collaboration with DIYZ. All opinions of apps and companies that help me complete DIY projects are my own.
When we moved to Raleigh in 2012, we bought a dining room table which came with a bench. But, the only bench the store had available was the display model. It wasn’t without some wear and tear, but we needed it. Obviously, a mere year and a half later, when we got back to Brooklyn, it broke.
The wood splintered on one of the legs and it was no longer stable enough to use. It seemed fixable, at least for someone who can fix things (read: not me), so we kept it in storage for when Mom and Buried got remarried.
To her chagrin, we’re still together, and the bench is still broken.
Recently, I wrote about some of the positive things my son has inherited from me, mostly by dint of genetics and osmosis. Which is to say accidentally. Give or take The Beatles.
I don’t like to brag, which is why I’m going to do it again today! Only this time there’s nothing accidental about the things I’m going to discuss. Because these aren’t traits my son was handed down, or music I’ve indoctrinated him into. These are things I’ve done right as a parent, on purpose!
Because I am the greatest parent alive!
We had our second kid a little more than a year ago.
Having a baby around, after being five-plus years removed from that part of the process, was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done required some quick re-learning of some forgotten skills.
Thankfully, it was a bit like riding a bike. Riding a shit-stained bike through an obstacle course of crumbs, toys, and instantly outgrown onesies while totally exhausted to the point of hallucination, but a bike nonetheless.
So far, we’ve managed, but not without my parenting survival list.
Last night, after tucking Detective Munch into bed and heading towards the door, he called me back. He often does this, usually it’s to ask me for a drink of water or to turn up the lights a little or to give him another kiss and hug. This time, he had something else in mind.
He called me back to his bedside not for extra TLC or to delay going to sleep with some other random request. No, he called me back to scold me and to remind me to finish the items on Mom and Buried’s honey-do list.
I’m okay with him being on Team Mom. I just don’t like losing to them so much!