Tag Archives: parenting

The Realest Struggle?

It’s hard to say what the most difficult part of parenting is overall; there are so many challenges to choose from. I don’t think I’d trade anything I’m dealing with now for having to change diapers again, but with my oldest not too far from entering her tweens, I’m not sure how long that sentiment will last.

However, I think I’ve been a parent long enough to know what the most intellectually difficult part of parenting is–by which I mean, the part where the difficulty lies in making the right choices, as opposed to having the patience or energy or foresight or experience to do things the right way.

Based on what I’ve heard from other parents–as well as what I’ve seen from my own!–I’m also pretty confident this is one challenge I’ll be wrestling with for the rest of my life.

Here’s the dilemma: your child needs something and is refusing it, or they’re about to do something they’ll regret, or they’reΒ not doing something they’ll wish they had, etc. What should you do? Well, that depends on the answer to this question: Do you and your child disagree because you’re more experienced and know better? Or do you disagree because they’re a different person with needs and priorities so alien to you you can barely imagine relating to them?

You would think this question would get easier to answer as your children grow and you get a better understanding of who they are. You would be dead wrong! For every genuine difference in personality you manage to internalize, a totally new one will get a chance to make itself known. For every genuine mistake they regret making, there’ll be another “mistake” that they only feel bad about because it bothers you. Oh, and by the way: your kids can’t always tell the difference between those last two. Good luck trying to figure it out yourself!

And yes, this really is a life-long challenge. Your kids, like all other humans ever, will keep making mistakes their whole lives, and it will continue to be difficult to impossible to guess the difference between stuff that just seems harebrained because your children have different priorities or context you’re missing, versus stuff that seems harebrained because it actually is and your children are the ones lacking experience or perspective.

I’m not sure how to end this essay; it ended up being a bit of a mess. I guess I’ll just say…parenting is really difficult, and I think my own mom and dad tried their best? I think they got this problem right most of the time, or at least most of the time when it really mattered. Thanks, Mom and Dad! You’ve been doing a great job. I love you!

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The Reverse Nostalgia of Parenthood

After you and your partner have been parents for a while, you develop a very strange relationship with your child-free past. On the one hand, you’ll still feel nostalgic for the “good ol’ days” when you could go hiking or have sex or see a movie on a whim, or stay up all night and sleep in as late as you wanted the next day, or treat yourselves to a quiet dinner at a nice restaurant without also having to arrange (and pay for) childcare.

On the other hand, you’ll also start feeling what I can only describe as “reverse nostalgia:” a desire to relive those child-free days with your children.

It starts with something much less strange: sooner or later you’ll start missing your kids when they aren’t around, even when you’re with your partner. For some it happens almost the moment their child is born; others might not get that feeling until their kids are old enough to talk, but I think it’s safe to say it eventually happens to any involved parent. The strange part happens some time after that: you’ll start missing your kids even in your memories, just while reliving moments from the life you had before they existed.

This is not to say you won’t want time away from your kids! The freedom of those moments doesn’t get any less enjoyable. If anything, they become that much sweeter when you understand their cost: the price you pay for not having your kids around is that some of the best people in your life won’t be there.

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Some Inspiration

A reminder from my daughter that it’s okay to dream of better things. Even if they seem too big. Even if they’re (gasp) cliche!

A paper cutout of a child's hand, glued onto a circle of paper colored to look like the Earth. Written on the hand is a child's dream for people to take better care of the homeless and the planet.

I have a dream that every one givs more muny to homles people and people take more care of the Earth

As we grow into adults, we learn that optimism is childish, and that dreams like these are simple and naive. Well–not all childish things are wrong. Sometimes, the sky really is blue, 2+2 really does equal 4, flowers really are pretty, the Emperor really is naked, and people really should take more care of the Earth and each other.

(And don’t forget to take care of yourself too, okay?)

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Don’t Feed After Midnight, Don’t Wake Before Noon

Since I’m not on social media much anymore, my spouse likes to curate memes and send them to me. They’re always good, but I particularly enjoy the ones they personalize…

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Check Out My Awesome New Ring

This was a gift from my daughter. Doesn’t she have GREAT taste?

πŸ˜πŸ’πŸ¦„

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Guest Post: “Zeus and Pacific”

This story was written by my daughter when she was learning about mythology at school. I’ve corrected the spelling and capitalization, but made no other changes. Enjoy!

Pacific was in a very powerful, indestructible space ship. Zeus did not like indestructible things, so Zeus made a storm, and the lightning STRUCK Pacific’s ship down. The ship traveled for miles and miles. When Pacific’s ship crashed into the ground, it made a big big BIG hole. Even though his ship was not too big, the hole was as BIG as the biggest ocean yet. Over time when it rained, it filled up the hole and became the Pacific Ocean, and that is how the Pacific Ocean came to be. The end.

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Lullaby

Before I was ready to call myself an atheist, I used to say that music was my religion.

I grew up with music; one of my father’s many careers was as a musician and there was nearly always something on the radio or record player when I was little. Folk, rock, and classical mostly, but those are such broad genres that in practice I was exposed to a little of nearly everything.

There was always a guitar in reach, or other instruments: flutes and recorders, small drums, a keyboard. A child’s dulcimer complete with follow-along sheet music you could fit right under the strings, and blank sheets to write your own songs with. Later, a gorgeous old upright piano.

And, of course, singing.

One of my earliest memories–quite possibly the earliest memory–is of the lullaby my mother used to sing to me and my sister, starting when we were still infants. I sing it to my own children, now. She got it from a book on baby massage; it’s in another language and I never learned what it meant.

When our oldest was an infant herself, right after we’d moved out of the studio apartment we’d lived in when she was born, I spent one long night rocking her back and forth as I paced the dark apartment, humming the most soothing tones I could invent, silently begging her to stay calm just a little longer, so her Renny could get some desparately-needed sleep.

One pattern of notes in particular started to repeat itself, a sort of melancholy tune, fitting for a lullaby. I spent much of that night working on it, infant in arms: getting the melody just right, coming up with words I could put to the notes. It was the first song I’d written since that old dulcimer I’d had as a child.

I named it “Stars.”

When planet Earth stops turning
When all the stars go dark and cold
When Time itself is ending
My love for you will still burn bright
My love for you is infinite

When planet Earth was stardust
When all the stars were newly born
When Time itself was waking
My love for you was ancient
My love for you is infinite

Climb to the highest mountain
Dig to the planet’s molten heart
Fly to the constellations
My love for you’s already there
My love for you is infinite

Count every rock and raindrop
Span every cell and galaxy
Weigh every star and black hole
My love for you is vaster yet
My love for you is infinite

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My Daughter Taught Me an Easy Way to Draw the Millennium Falcon

Two simple but evocative line drawings of the Millennium Falcon from Star Wars, nose-on view. The one on the right is fat and lopsided.
Her drawing is the one on the left. Obviously.

(No one else taught her this trick, by the way. She came up with it on her own.)

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She Likes Vehicles

My spouse: “Hey sweetie, you get to dress up as your favorite Christmas character for school tomorrow. What do you want to go as?”

My 8yo (confused): “Christmas character?”

Me: “Yeah, like Santa or the Grinch.”

Spouse: “Or you could dress like one of the characters from The Polar Express.”

(The Polar Express is the kids’ favorite Christmas movie)

8yo (thinking): “…I want to be the train.”

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Proud

My daughter: “Hey dad, want to hear a joke? It’s a pun.”

Me, responding to my love language: “Absolutely!”

Her: “What do you call a T-Rex that’s also a sword?”

Me: “I don’t know, what?”

Her: “A dino-sword.”

Me:

Mr. Miyagi from "The Karate Kid" looking at his student with pride

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