So as a parent there are good days, lighter than air, where the kids play and listen and laugh and twinkle as their awesomeness radiates from their sweet little bodies, wafting through the air like in old cartoons when they lay a freshly baked pie on the window sill and it floats into the nostrils of the dog down the street. Light. Restorative. Joyous.
Then there are days like I had today. Where kids push boundaries. And force issues. And deliver Sass. A. Frass. They whine and they crank and the time ticks on clocks in slow slow slow motion. You question yourself and every moment leading up to this one, and you scratch your head and wonder how you got to this place and, more importantly, how in the actual heck you get out of this place…both physically and theoretically.
Parenting is no joke. Obviously. It’s not for the faint of heart, they say. Yeah. True that.
And the beautiful and challenging part of the whole thing is that it’s all just an awkward dance between these moments, daily, hourly, moment to moment. This swirl of feelings of crushing failure and life-affirming pride. You smile and receive sweet compliments about your brood and you say thank you and your heart swells and you give yourself a silent pat on the back. And then you find yourself trying to tip toe out of Target while pushing a cart full of screaming babies and you squinch your eyes shut and hope no one heard your desperate last-ditch bribes and saw your wild “mama-means-business” eyeballs.
This morning was an ugly all-the-people-are-screaming kind of a dilly. And now, hours later, here I sit sipping the summer release of watermelon margarita seltzer, eating someone’s cast-aside goldfish while the baby naps and the big three giggle in the pool underneath a dome of sunshine, white puffy clouds and chirping birds.
As much as I wish life could just be the sugary sweet stuff, the hard stuff is good stuff too. It’s in the questions where you figure out where you stand. In the forehead rubbing exhales where you learn you’re not in control. In the publicly embarrassing meltdowns where you are delivered a dose of humility. In the times where they’re saying the things that are not so shimmery-splendid (but they repeat them from your verbal repertoire) where you get a chance to look in the mirror and know where you yourself have got some work to do.
The toy the kids were playing with in the pool that was the source of such delight mere minutes ago just drilled one of them in the neck and our yard was ringing with screaming and crying and blaming and tears galore. And now they’re sharing a drink on towels lined up on the brick patio and hugging each other after having brought to each other towels and snacks and drinks. Up and down. Sad and happy. Life.
Care to share your thoughts?