I love my kids, I just hate parenting
My son likes to play this game called “Give Mommy and Daddy a heart attack!”
The rules are simple: he goes about his normal, everyday business, and Mom and Buried and I freak out at every stupid and dangerous thing he does that nearly gets him killed. Toddlers are fearless, to a fault.
Obviously, it’s not quite as fun for us.
My kid just got accepted to what I suppose could be considered a slightly exclusive preschool. I mean, they sent an acceptance letter!
Upon receiving said letter, I sent an all-caps, multi-exclamation mark text message to Mom and Buried, announcing that “WE DID IT!”
Don’t worry, I was being sarcastic.
Somehow it was easier with a baby.
Sure, we were guaranteed multiple trips into his bedroom every night, but when a baby wakes up crying you can cuddle it, feed it, rock it and lay with it until it falls back asleep. Of course that’s not exactly easy, a lot depends on the crankiness of the baby and/or any more serious issues (we escaped the dreaded colic, thank the gods), but it doesn’t require a ton of thought or effort. It’s instinct versus inconvenience.
Toddlers wake up less often but when they do, they’re able to start a conversation. Or worse: make demands.
Years ago, Mom and Buried and I learned a parenting lesson we’d never forget: keep calm and parent on!
A woman and her son were walking around Fenway Park, the little boy happily toting a Red Sox balloon. All of a sudden, the balloon popped. We steeled ourselves for a meltdown. But his quick-thinking mother defused the situation.
She responded immediately with a wide smile and a big laugh, brightly exclaiming, “Your balloon popped! Who cares, right?” In no time, her son was laughing along with her. She’d thwarted his natural inclination towards getting upset by treating the whole thing as no big deal. When he saw that Mommy didn’t care, suddenly neither did he.
Even without kids, I knew it was a brilliant move. Years later, with a two-year-old of my own, her underreaction seems just as brilliant, even more essential, and a lot harder than it looked.
Everyone laments the speed with which kids grow up. (Almost everyone.) Parents are constantly warning other parents how quickly a kid’s childhood flies by and how, before you know it, the apple of your eye is in college.
But that’s not what scares me. Watching my kid get older will definitely be bittersweet in the long-run, but I’m more concerned with the now. Specifically, the double-edged sword that is my son’s rapidly increasing intelligence and physical development, and how it affects me on a daily basis. Because every new skill my son acquires brings with it an increase to my day-to-day stress.
The smarter he gets, the more difficult my life becomes.