I love my kids, I just hate parenting
Parenting turns us all into hypocrites.
Throughout our lives, we all encounter situations in which it behooves us to disavow any and all association with certain… unsavory behaviors from our pasts. Like during a job interview, or upon meeting your girlfriend’s parents, or at church.
But those instances are short-lived, and you can go right back to being a rock star when they’re over. Unless you have kids.
Because parenting never ends.
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.
My son is five years old.
Sounds cute, right? He’s still little! He still snuggles with a blankey thing; he often mispronounces words in adorable ways; he still likes to sleep in our bed!
It all sounds downright Disney… unless you have a five-year-old of your own. Then it’s more like Tim Burton.
Referring to the months leading up to the Hammer’s arrival as “stressful” is a massive understatement.
I was out of my mind with anxiety, from worries about future restrictions on money and and sleep and time, to concerns about both the baby’s and Mom and Buried’s health, to wondering how I would possible survive the post-delivery ban on sex, my mind was overwhelmed with fear and uncertainty.
Now, of course – exactly as I kept telling myself it would be all along (to little avail) – everything is fine.
The other day, I ran across an article on Babble entitled, The 20 Most Common Parenting Mistakes, According to a Family Psychologist. I can’t afford a family psychologist, so I checked it out in the hopes of getting some free tips.
Then I read it. And, as I often do with these kinds of articles, I had some comments.