“There are a myriad of things that you can do, like pick up a pen and paper.” – Drama! Erasure
Many moons ago, before I chose an automotive and diesel college over an actual college, I wanted to be a journalist when I grew up. As a creative outlet and maybe a bit of therapy, I decided to start a blog.
My first post about putting my ‘career” on hold to focus on my kids drew some nice responses but the first thing my own mother said was she wished she had spent more time with me when I was growing up.
I grew up an only child with a single mother long before Teen Mom and 16 & Pregnant were on anyone’s radar. Maybe in the midst of it, I wished for a sibling, or a father, or a two car garage with a house attached but my Mom did the best she could. I think I turned out pretty great! (Though not exactly humble so don’t look for me in any of Charlotte’s Webs)
My choice to quit my job was not meant to be a dig at any other parents out there. Whether you have two Moms, two Dads, a single, father, a single mother, a grandmother, two working parents, stay-at-home parents, nannies, mannies, whatever! Parenting is exhausting and terrifying enough without feeling like you’re constantly being judged.
Not to mention, my wise friends who decided against kids. We shouldn’t judge people who choose to forgo the 2.5 children manifesto. Though trust me, some nights I certainly envy their DINK (dual income no children) lifestyle.
As a tattooed potty mouth girl, I worry the other parents might judge me or my children. I didn’t use cloth diapers or make my own baby food. I barely breastfed. To be completely honest, I didn’t stay home with my children when they were tiny because I knew they would end up at the bottom of a lake before kindergarten. My fool hardy husband volunteered for Daddy daycare duties because he secretly thought he’d stay home playing X-Box all day occasionally tossing a Cheerio or two towards the playpen. Was he ever rudely awakened from that fantasy? Repeatedly, for at least seven years!
Parenting is like a tightrope for me. I’m pretty sure I’m scarring them for life almost weekly but also fiercely proud of the human beings they’re becoming almost by accident it seems.
I remember arguing with my husband last year because our son was eating Cool Ranch Doritos for breakfast, my husband insisting this proved we were white trash.” Oh no! Our secret’s out! ” my sarcastic reply.
I dropped my seven year old son off at a sleepover last weekend and witnessed, to my horror, him “teabagging” his classmates! To be fair, he was mimicking something he saw on a Minecraft Youtube video fully clothed thankfully. I’m pretty sure he thought teabagging meant farting on your friends which is definitely hilarious to 4th graders. He was shaking his butt over his wrestling friends shouting, “I’m teabagging you! I’m teabagging you!” When I explained to him what it actually means (Google it), he turned a bit pale. Some of the other parents were NOT amused. ( Though I for one was relieved he wasn’t actually declaring his affiliation with the Tea Party ;P) Definitely not one of my shining motherhood moments.
I was talking with some people at an Avalanche game at the Pepsi Center last Friday about the last time we were at the arena. We took our kids to the Aerosmith concert. It was amazing. Groupon had a deal for $25 tickets and these days $50 for two extra tickets is actually cheaper than paying a babysitter so why not bring the kids to their first rock concert? Slash opened for them so he played a bunch of Gun’N’Roses songs which was awesome! Sure, I had to shake the kids awake for Dream On so they could witness Steven Tyler in a creeper mustache perform their hit while standing on a white grand piano, not to be missed. Surely, they’ll thank me later. “Wow, you must be the best parents ever!” my Avalanches buddies exclaimed. “Sure,” I laughed it off trying to forget my earlier teabagging shame.
My friend, very sarcastically, likes to joke that I must have a closet full of Mother of the Year trophies.
My point is, I’m just doing my best, which I think is what we’re all doing here, so let’s cut each other some slack. It’s true what they say, it takes a village. The only trophies in parenting are stretch marks, gray hairs, sleepless nights, and some fantastic little people.
