I have four kids. 10, 9, 4, and 1… we cover a whole lot of ground. I have been through daycares, dentists, kindergarten firsts and lasts, school bus bullies, and the existence of the Tooth Fairy. My husband and I have navigated through the passing of pets, serious consequences and parent-teacher conferences. My younger two have semi-seasoned parents, and sometimes we laugh where we used to feel challenged. Permanent marker on a kid’s leg? It’ll wash off eventually. He drew a pig in high heels on the bedroom wall? We were painting it anyway.
Then it hit me… do my big kids still need me?
Well of course they do, I know. We still have a long way to go, and we still have a lot of ground to cover. But it never really occurred to me some of the really odd life lessons that we learn from our parents. Common sense must be developed between the ages of 4 and 99 because sometimes I cannot believe the words that come out of my mouth with my 9 and 10-year-olds…
Wash the spoon. Don’t use a fork with your cereal because you’re too lazy to wash a dang spoon. Elmer’s Glue is not a substitute for hair gel. No, you cannot wear those jeans every day. Yes, you have to brush your hair in the back, and yes I am serious. Messy buns are okay, but not every day… I feel your pain. We don’t ride dirt bikes in the house. Please use soap and shampoo, they are necessary, not an option. If I find folded clean clothes in the dirty clothes pile again, so help me…
I use to dream about all the things I could teach my kids. This is how we tie our shoes, this is how we read sweet stories, this is how you brush your teeth, this is why we say please and thank you. Never did I ever think I would have to take my kid to the ER for a pony bead up her nose or stop a kid from riding his bike down the stairs. No, the liquid in the Crayola markers is not juice… now you look like you ate a rainbow.
If you are new to the parenting game, let me share a tip.
Count to 10 before replying to a really big event-question-catastrophe. “I need to talk,” “I have an important question,” “Hey mom, something happened…” Count to 10. It’s best for everyone if you have a second to collect your thoughts. Whatever you say will likely be remembered for eternity, no pressure. What a crazy job we have as mothers. I stay up late at night trying to dissect conversations, pour over strengths and weaknesses in myself and how to be better for my kids. Then, all of a sudden that issue that concerned me for six months comes to a head and we have conquered it and I breathe deeply. We did it. We made it through this mountain of a molehill issue.
But, before I can relax and rest in success, I hear my son yell, “Mom! I spilled the bleach…what should I do?” Yes, my kids still need me. Different lessons, different days. Only, when it comes to bleach, I don’t count to 10.
