I sit here in
my oversized lounge chair and stare at one bright blue sock on my right foot,
and a Santa Claus sock on my left foot, and wonder how on earth I’m going to
raise two children. I see how my dogs act and rarely refrain from naughtiness,
and I again wonder how this is going to work out. I remember when first became
pregnant with Benji, my brother John sat me down and told me that parenting is
the absolute hardest job that I will ever have, but the best job I’ll ever have
too. Being the much older brother
that he is to me, he usually has very well thought out and heartfelt advice,
and this was no exception. Parenting is definitely a test of my heart and soul,
and although I may sound like a horrible person for what I’m about to say, I
think most of you will understand what I mean…and if you don’t, I’ve come to
the conclusion that you’re lying. Sometimes I don’t like my kids.
When I get home
from work, rush around to make dinner, notice but deny the mess of toys and
clothes covering my living room floor, serve dinner only to hear, “eeeeewwwww.
It has green things in it” or “eeeeewww…I don’t like _________ (fill in the
blank),” I don’t like my kids. When it
seems like all I need to do is take a nap, but that’s the last thing my kids need
to do…I don’t like my kids. And when my husband and I have a knockdown, drag
out about a parenting technique because of a bad behavior that one of my kids
displayed, I don’t like my kids very much. But…just because I don’t like my
kids very much sometimes, doesn’t mean that I don’t love my kids with every
inch of my being every moment of my existence. And with that being said, here
is what I want for the kids that I don’t like sometimes…
1. Happiness
2. Health
3. Bliss
4. Knowledge
5. Integrity
6. Desire
7. Imagination
8. Dreams
9. Love
10. A good dog.
Some of these
things can be taught, bought, or made, but most come from within, and as a
parent, I don’t know exactly how to “put” these things inside my kids. I feel
fortunate as my parents figured it out. They strategically placed each and
every one of these things into their three completely different children at different
times in their lives. Aside from the good dog (Eddie the Wonder Dog) in those
critical middle school years when nothing else made sense, I’m not sure when my
parents “put” these inside of me. I
truly hope that one of these days I’ll figure it out for my own children, as
for now I think picking out matching socks would be a fabulous beginning.
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