Poetic Justice (Or an Example of God’s Warped Sense of Humor)
I love my children completely. I’m willing to bet most of us who have them do. I’m sure I’m not the only person to reflect on this thought, but there is something that enters my mind every once in a while about my little darlings, so I thought I’d share it with you.
Over the past seventeen years of parenting, it has become painfully obvious to me that although my children are wonders, each of them is a complicated mixture of all of both their father’s and my absolute worst characteristics. There are aspects of my own personality and nature that make me cringe. And there are for sure many of my ex-husband’s qualities and quirks that make me secretly homicidal inside my head.
Through years of tears, arguments, and daily struggles, it is obvious my kids are each a unique mix of all the things that drive us nuts about each other:
- Singing in the car off-key: check.
- Loud-talking on the phone: check.
- Endless blathering on and on and on: check.
- Refusing to accept responsibility for their actions: Double-check.
- Treating the people you love the most worse than the crap on the bottom of your shoes: Triple-check.
As I’ve said in other posts, this parenting gig really is for the birds sometimes. What I probably don’t share enough of are some of the most rewarding parts of parenting. Having a very strong-willed,close-minded, hormonal sixteen year old daughter actually LISTEN to and CONSIDER your thoughts is a beautiful thing. Watching your children succeed in and out of the classroom, after knowing they set very high standards for themselves and achieve their goals is incredibly humbling. Even just hearing from an adult they don’t know say your eleven year old son shook his hand and made eye contact with him and introduced himself the first time they met (without being told to do so) was a very proud moment.
My griping about the demoralizing aspects of parenting is just me being me. I am not a sugar-coater, but instead I generally call it like I see it, with a little extra dramatics and humor (hopefully) added in to spice things up. No need to call DYFS just yet—I really do love my offspring to pieces. But boy, do they drive me bonkers sometimes…