Saturday, June 11, 2011

Parenting is hard. Duh, right?

I knew parenting was going to be hard. I was under no illusions. But the part I most dreaded was when my children got old enough to want to play with me. The early part, while mind-numbingly exhausting, is fairly free of mental interaction with your child. You feed them, get them to sleep, hold them, make eye contact when they're actually awake, and you're good. I'm excellent at performing routine and dull tasks. I was really good at newborn parenting and got lots of compliments. Of course, I'm sure most new mothers get lots of compliments, but still.

No, the newborn part didn't phase me. The toddler part and beyond did and does scare me. You see, given the choice I will find myself a nice pleasant spot away from people with a book and stay there. You don't have to talk to me or play with me. In fact, just leave me alone. I'm sure I was different when I was younger, but starting at the age of ten the previous description fits me to a T (until I get done with the book and have no other books at hand. Then I get bored and make Damm play with me. Nothing dirty intended or implied there). I don't like games, most of the children's shows are BORING and INACCURATE. What's with Diego giving kids the idea that a jaguar makes a suitable pet? Or Dora. Dora is worse. I can't even think about it right now. I don't like baths (they get five minute or less baths), the park is fine for about ten minutes, and aren't you glad I wasn't your mother?

On the other hand, I am confident that my kids will get the best schooling it is possible to get. I grew up around women who didn't have any degrees to speak of raise intelligent kids who got excellent grades in college and in general succeeded in life. I will have a degree, the support of both my mom and my mother-in-law, and a husband who is in total agreement with homeschooling. I have no fear. I am also good at reading to my kids and making time for the bookstore and library. They like to watch me exercise, and that has to be good, right? Setting a good example and all that.

But still, I worry. What parent doesn't? I worry that somehow I will be denying them something because I never forced myself to religiously go to the park, or play games all afternoon. I worry because I don't know that many parents with kids so they have yet to have a playdate. And during the semester? Forget it. I don't even have time for dates for Damm and myself.

But then again, I must have been given these particular children for a reason. Perhaps they need my quirky personality to achieve their personal best. The Orclette's vocabulary is certainly beyond the other four-year-old girls I've come into contact with ("Momma, will you situate my book for me?" or "I am not perspicacious momma! Stop saying that!") and the Miniorc seems to enjoy the very detailed explanations I give him when he asks "Was" which means "What is this?" So I should probably stop worrying. Ha.

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