May 1st, 2017
Dear Todd,
Forgive me, it has been 4 months (120 days approximately) since my last entry. During that time, I have gotten doughy and lazy while struggling to find a sense of purpose. In case you are wondering, the answer is "Yes, everything I just said is counterproductive." Well...not totally...I've been very productive in the doughy and lazy just not so much in the quest for purpose.
See...I've discovered that there comes a time in every stay-at-home mom's life where she realizes that the world DID IN FACT KEEP ON SPINNING while she was buried in markers, vomit, diapers, loud plastic musical toys and unusual rashes. Kids she once babysat have their PhDs. The 4th graders from 1992 aren't hiring at their multi-million dollar company. But I digress...the point is I gladly chose, and was fortunate enough to be able to choose, to stay home with the littles and to try to direct them towards being good citizens and community members. I do not regret nor begrudge this. It's just hard to realize 13 years later that "momming" is the only thing in which I have current experience. Which would make me a great candidate for Senior Care, if I didn't long for a hiatus from "Wiping."
And then...when they do not act like good citizens and community members does that mean that the last 13 years have been all for not?! I have to believe, "No." BUT, it certainly does not help to not have any sort of measuring stick.
And when you get back into the car, with your 9yr old who has been left alone with your phone, and your 11yr old says, "Ask Siri what your name is," and your 9yr old panics and Siri tells you that, "...because we're friends I get to call you 'You Sexy Mother F'er'" and you are pretty sure that you have never played that Prince song for your son...you start to doubt your parenting chops.
While, as a gooey and lazy 40+ woman, I appreciate the nickname...I cannot codone that it came from my 9yr old's mouth. And the greater concern is that his mouth goes with him any time he leaves the house. I have warned him that he is in danger of becoming the kid that no one wants their child to play with if he talks that way. I'm also going to have to have the "Please Don't Work as the Pool Boy in College" talk...pretty sure that 10 is the age for that one...followed by stay away from all females whose name starts with "Mrs."
And this is our 3rd. I've been ever present for all of them and so why the 3rd?! Wtf? And that's when I started to wonder whether there is a "Parenting Shelf-Life" and whether I have maybe expired. Perhaps if you do not bring in "new blood" by way of baby or toddler...you lose your effectiveness. I'm tired. Of talking. Of listening. Of making sense out of nonsense and diffusing random nouns and verbs that are just being angrily thrust into the air by people under 5 feet.
These are the years where you want the "self-watering" feature on your kids, because they are supposed to do most things by themselves anyway...and yet...we are still needed. On their terms.
I guess that's not really fair. It has always been on their terms, which is why post-partum exists, because it's the shift of "your terms to their terms." But these tween/teen terms remind me of the days of "playing pretend with your toddler when they would tell you every move to make and when you were doing it wrong." Anyone? Was it just my kids? For some reason, it's harder to take that direction from a larger being.
Which leads me back to "purpose." I will find it. I would just like to share with you and anyone else who feels it, that this is an eerily uncomfortable stage of life. It's like living on call with the gift of "but when you're not needed do whatever you want." And that gift can be paralyzing because what if your confidence has sunk so low that you really think you are best at carpooling and wiping. And so you wipe...until, not unlike Pavlov's dog...something rings. A phone, a school bell, an alarm...and then you "go." And then you respond to whatever enters your car: homework, unkind friends, chest pains, bloody nose, chipped tooth, costume needed for tomorrow, bathroom accident, and some days a loud sing-a-long to "Don't Stop Me Now" by Queen. And as we sing, I realize that my life is very full. And I am very grateful. And very fortunate. And still I long to be more. So, when the kids get out of the car, I ask Siri what my name is.
Dear Todd,
Forgive me, it has been 4 months (120 days approximately) since my last entry. During that time, I have gotten doughy and lazy while struggling to find a sense of purpose. In case you are wondering, the answer is "Yes, everything I just said is counterproductive." Well...not totally...I've been very productive in the doughy and lazy just not so much in the quest for purpose.
See...I've discovered that there comes a time in every stay-at-home mom's life where she realizes that the world DID IN FACT KEEP ON SPINNING while she was buried in markers, vomit, diapers, loud plastic musical toys and unusual rashes. Kids she once babysat have their PhDs. The 4th graders from 1992 aren't hiring at their multi-million dollar company. But I digress...the point is I gladly chose, and was fortunate enough to be able to choose, to stay home with the littles and to try to direct them towards being good citizens and community members. I do not regret nor begrudge this. It's just hard to realize 13 years later that "momming" is the only thing in which I have current experience. Which would make me a great candidate for Senior Care, if I didn't long for a hiatus from "Wiping."
And then...when they do not act like good citizens and community members does that mean that the last 13 years have been all for not?! I have to believe, "No." BUT, it certainly does not help to not have any sort of measuring stick.
And when you get back into the car, with your 9yr old who has been left alone with your phone, and your 11yr old says, "Ask Siri what your name is," and your 9yr old panics and Siri tells you that, "...because we're friends I get to call you 'You Sexy Mother F'er'" and you are pretty sure that you have never played that Prince song for your son...you start to doubt your parenting chops.
While, as a gooey and lazy 40+ woman, I appreciate the nickname...I cannot codone that it came from my 9yr old's mouth. And the greater concern is that his mouth goes with him any time he leaves the house. I have warned him that he is in danger of becoming the kid that no one wants their child to play with if he talks that way. I'm also going to have to have the "Please Don't Work as the Pool Boy in College" talk...pretty sure that 10 is the age for that one...followed by stay away from all females whose name starts with "Mrs."
And this is our 3rd. I've been ever present for all of them and so why the 3rd?! Wtf? And that's when I started to wonder whether there is a "Parenting Shelf-Life" and whether I have maybe expired. Perhaps if you do not bring in "new blood" by way of baby or toddler...you lose your effectiveness. I'm tired. Of talking. Of listening. Of making sense out of nonsense and diffusing random nouns and verbs that are just being angrily thrust into the air by people under 5 feet.
These are the years where you want the "self-watering" feature on your kids, because they are supposed to do most things by themselves anyway...and yet...we are still needed. On their terms.
I guess that's not really fair. It has always been on their terms, which is why post-partum exists, because it's the shift of "your terms to their terms." But these tween/teen terms remind me of the days of "playing pretend with your toddler when they would tell you every move to make and when you were doing it wrong." Anyone? Was it just my kids? For some reason, it's harder to take that direction from a larger being.
Which leads me back to "purpose." I will find it. I would just like to share with you and anyone else who feels it, that this is an eerily uncomfortable stage of life. It's like living on call with the gift of "but when you're not needed do whatever you want." And that gift can be paralyzing because what if your confidence has sunk so low that you really think you are best at carpooling and wiping. And so you wipe...until, not unlike Pavlov's dog...something rings. A phone, a school bell, an alarm...and then you "go." And then you respond to whatever enters your car: homework, unkind friends, chest pains, bloody nose, chipped tooth, costume needed for tomorrow, bathroom accident, and some days a loud sing-a-long to "Don't Stop Me Now" by Queen. And as we sing, I realize that my life is very full. And I am very grateful. And very fortunate. And still I long to be more. So, when the kids get out of the car, I ask Siri what my name is.
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