the parenting books never have the chapter titled;
Some Days Parenting Sucks and On Those Days You Will Feel Like a Fucking Hack. HA!
but here's the deleted chapter. i will try and be brief.
some days parenting SUCKS.
some days it is quite possibly the job with the absolute least amount of visible tangible return and absolutely not one.single.minute of satisfaction. i've seen polls wherein parenting is listed BELOW housecleaning or somesuch honest and needed but not terribly fun endeavor. that's because even if it's the grossest toilet on earth it will come clean. or close to it. and your effort, for even just a few seconds before the adrenaline recedes and the gag reflex really kicks in, it will all be worth it.
some days there are lots and lots tears spilled behind the bathroom door because you are tired of hearing yourself say the same.thing.again. and again. and when you aren't heard, even if the person is TEN or FOURTEEN it still gets really personal after a time. it's hard not to be heard. because this is your *job.* and wow. what a choice. oh, and my god my voice is shrill.
(and if you are a stay at home mother...double wow. these will be the days that you will REALLY reconsider your career choice. duuuuuude. the lack of a pay check should have been your first clue...)
some days it's hard to remember to be kind. to take the deep breath. to count to fucking ten. FUCK YOU TEN WHAT HAVE YOU EVER DONE FOR ME! WHY ARE YOU SO *IT* FOR NUMBERS? HUH? HUH?* you forget to moderate your voice. to remember that this isn't all about YOU *not* being listened to, but rather it's about pulling these kids up and through this life. and some days, that is neither easy or fun. hell, some days it doesn't even hit gross dirty toilet cleaning level.
some days you are certain that you are not cut out for this. at all. that you are most certainly raising children who won't be able to make it on their own. and thus will be susceptible to the whacknoodles of this world. you know, women with father issues or cult leaders or telemarketers. OH MY GOD or the birthers. worse yet, that they will end up living in your basement. for the rest of your life. and still draw an allowance.
today i had that kind of day. and after the tears and the less than book worthy behavior, after the full on silly mortal mama-ness i looked around and i repeated the words of a dear dear friend's father...'this is bad management.'
because it doesn't matter how bad the day or how fast and often those wheels have spun. or how the sound of your voice is making you crack. or wish you had some. ultimately it's up to the parent to right the ship and get things back on track. and to not fall into doing crack.
that's why kids are kids and parents are adults. the theory being that by the time one becomes a parent they know how to take the deep breath and the higher road. and has learned that the world is larger than the personal. and that some days just suck, but the job still needs to get done. and, ultimately that the kid *gets* to be age appropriate, but the parent (who is the adult) *has* to be age appropriate.
i guess the thing to remember is that the sun always rises. tomorrow is another day. one more chance to start again.
(oh. and wine. wine helps. the parenting books NEVER say that.)
in the meantime, deep breaths and deeper hugs can stopgap the rest of it. because when that some day turns into the evening it's time to let it go. to throw your hands up and throw your arms around your kid and surrender for the time being.
and don't forget to get some arms thrown around you, too. really. take care of you AND your kids. applying the oxygen mask first and all that.
because the evening and bedtime is always your free pass. your out. your tap on the shoulder in the ring. it's a natural transition to softening. to let the shoulders down a notch. and the voice, too.
this is a hard job. a hard job one is so very lucky to have. that i am lucky to have. i am so grateful for my children. but just because one is lucky enough to have and raise children, in whatever circumstance that is procured, arranged or executed, and experience the divine here on earth doesn't mean there aren't those days that make you want run screaming from the room into the street and overwhelmingly demonstrate and define what to 'rent one's garments' really means.
sillymortalmama said there'd be days like this. so go easy on yourself. go easier on your kids. and don't forget that tomorrow always comes.