It’s Monday. And most of you know how I feel about Mondays. After a bunch of time with both my kids and my husband, I have to say this.
I’m very, very lucky.
Even though, after several rainy days cooped up with all of them began to take a toll on my nerves, I recognize the really great family I’ve been given. My kids LIKE hanging out with us.
When I was young–maybe five or six–I came to the conclusion that my family wasn’t my cup of tea. I played by myself a lot, making up stories in the huge backyard we had and building block cities in my bedroom. I did love the family interaction we had, but I don’t remember wanting to be with my parents as much as my kids want to be with my husband and I. Perhaps, it’s because they don’t feel alien.
Demolition Boy, though we rag on him for being destructive, is clearly like me. His humor, his interests, seem to fit with us and we all enjoy him. Train Boy knows he’s just like his Daddy. He loves time with the family.
He cries when the Redneck goes to work.
I didn’t have an unhappy childhood, but I know I didn’t feel a “part of” or that I “fit” with my family or school or anywhere until I was in my twenties and got into Al-Anon. For a long time, I believed I was broken, defective. When I realized that I was just different and that was just fine, a burden lifted from my shoulders and I began to live instead of fear.
Then, I had children.
My fear became “What if I screw this up?” I joke that I’m not saving money for my kid’s college tuition, but for their therapy. Only sometimes, it isn’t funny. I’m convinced that some day my oldest will say he loves me but he just can’t deal with me. Or Demolition Boy will go through life convinced he doesn’t belong, just as I did.
But they like us. They hang out with us. We yell at each other a lot, but there’s a lot of love there too. Maybe, just maybe, we’re giving them something they can hang onto. It will be interesting to see what they remember when they get older.
I can hear it now at some Thanksgiving dinner. “Whatdoyamean Mom? I just remember that you were on the computer all the time. But you make great dinner rolls.”
Yeah, that’ll be my legacy. Dinner rolls.
I guess that’s better than “No wire hangers.”
January 7, 2008...4:57 am
Back To The Grind….
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12 Comments
January 7, 2008 at 6:03 am
Yeah, I think about that whole circle of parenting too. I wasn’t really happy with a lot of my parenting decisions, and so I’m scared to death that my kids will know I’m crazy and that I’ll screw them up. It’s the one thing that hits snooze on the baby alarm clock these days. I guess what bothers me about my folks is that when I look back, I can’t say that they did the best they could. They did what was easy for them. Your boys know that you do your best by them.
January 7, 2008 at 6:05 am
Jennifer – my Lord girl we are alike! I felt very “out of place” in my family as a child. Perhaps it was because I was shipped to my grandmother’s house every available free day. But there, she made me feel loved and wanted. Don’t get me wrong, my parents were good people, but they were busy with their own lives. I worry that I’m messing up my kids too. I think that’s a normal (or at least common) parental fear. I love that your kids like being with you. Ours do too.
And you’re right; dinner rolls is MUCH better than “No wire hangers!” God, I hated that movie.
Peace,
Kris
January 7, 2008 at 6:05 am
Uh, yeah, that should say “my parent’s decisions”. Subliminal, maybe?
January 7, 2008 at 6:12 am
Maybe VBC. LOL. I think it’s tough not to reenact some of my parent’s mistakes, but I try not to get all freaked out by it.
And Kris, that’s what the Redneck always says when I’m doing my usual “I suck as a mommy” hand wringing.
Dinner rolls ARE better. And I can’t even WATCH that movie.
January 7, 2008 at 9:01 am
My motto has always been that I’m not raising kids, I’m raising adults. To that end, my daughter is now 15, and I have to step back and let her figure more out for herself and I am so freaked out that I missed an important lesson somewhere and she’ll be screwed up for life.
Her dad, to combat the fear, is trying to hold her tighter and closer, while I am trying to loosen my grip. Poor kid. I just don’t want her to go crazy with her first taste of freedom when she is in college and I’m too far away to be of any use. I’m thinking if she has some freedom now, it won’t be so overwhelming when she leaves home. And I won’t see her on a “Girls Gone Wild” infomercial.
January 7, 2008 at 10:40 am
Gwen, I’m just glad God gave me boys. I bow to your wisdom as always.
January 7, 2008 at 11:36 am
As the mom of two teenagers, I can just about guarantee that you will hear, “Mom, I love you. But I can’t deal with you.”
I hoping its a passing phase.
January 7, 2008 at 11:38 am
LOL. Thanks Kym. I’m hoping so too. I guess I was thinking of a time when I’m really old and have to go live with one of them. *shudders*. The places my mind goes.
Nevermind. LOL.
January 7, 2008 at 11:42 am
You’re right. Mondays are tough. You sound like a great parent to me, Jen, and dinner rolls isn’t a bad legacy at all!
January 7, 2008 at 8:09 pm
Yeah, I’ll be known for my chocolate chip cookies…and for trips to the bathrooms at stores for ‘attitude adjustments’. Also known these days as child abuse. Heaven forbid anyone pop their kid on the hiney when they are shrieking and hanging from your hand as you drag them down the aisle of a store…know what I mean??
Your boys will love you forever!
January 8, 2008 at 1:23 am
I can tell you’re a great Mom and know how proud you are of your boys. I can tell you from experience (my boys are 23 and 25 this year – yes, I started early) that you can’t predict what they will remember, or what lessons they will take away from your home, so don’t fret and just love them. They will always remember that . . . .
January 8, 2008 at 5:04 am
Ah Shelley. I know you understand.
LOL Sue. “Attitude Adjustments” Yes, I do know what you mean.
I am proud of them. They are such individuals with their own little ways of thinking. I just can’t see them letting someone put them in a box. I think that’s great. I hope they do remember I love them.