This winter the 4th Grader will turn ten years old, which means I will have been a parent for a decade. It also means that same 4th Grader–my oldest child–is more than halfway to adulthood. I can hardly wrap my mind around that fact. We have lived in the house we are in now for five years. If I close my eyes for a minute, I can take myself back to the first few months after we moved in here and feel the intensity of that season. High-strung as I am, I would wake up after a night of intermittent sleep feeling truly uncertain how we were going to get through the day. The girls were 4, 3, and newborn, and I’m pretty sure we survived on an hour by hour basis. I think my expression probably looked something like this each morning when the Spouse left for work. “Wait a minute. You won’t be back until when??”
Our days were built entirely around feeding schedules, snacks, and nap times. I thought some of those days, particularly the long winter days when the Spouse didn’t get home until well after dark, would never end. By the time mid-afternoon rolled around, I think we were all ready to plant our face in a bowl of chocolate ice cream. And, some days we did just that with absolutely no remorse.
Yet, here we are, five years later. As the girls have grown, so much has changed about the dynamics of our day. But one thing has not. And that thing is my uncertainty about what I’m doing as a parent. I am noticing that much like five and even almost ten years ago, I am a better mom when my children are asleep than I am when they’re awake. The moment we get everyone tucked in for the night is the moment I start thinking about what I should {or should not} have said in this or that situation, how I should {or should not} have reacted, what I could have done better, etc. Amazingly, when I remove all the real-time factors from the scenarios that make up our days, I can be calm, collected, and even wise in my responses and reactions. In the moments that matter, though, I am hot-tempered, impatient, and immature. I know something of the person I want to be, and I go to bed each night determined to be more like her. But morning comes, and whether it’s interrupted sleep, a grumpy kid, a sibling squabble at breakfast, or our barking dog, that mom I committed to being at 10 PM the night before has been taken hostage by fatigue and frustration and someone far more volatile is filling her shoes.
I imagine most parents wish there was a rewind or a pause button on life so we could go back and get things right or at least stop time long enough to think things through. But, life has never worked that way. My girls aren’t going to know or remember what I thought about when they were away at school or well after they were asleep each night. What they’ll remember are the things I said and did during their interactive, waking hours.
I don’t profit from keeping a blog in a financial sense. But, more than anything else I’ve done as a parent this past decade, I think regularly writing here has helped me be mindful of how quickly kids grow and change. Even more so, something about writing keeps me honest about who I am and who I am becoming, whether I like that sort of introspection or not. Nothing forces me to reflect on our days like trying to journal about a few of them. And, sometimes whatever the most stressful or trying part of our day happened to be in the moment it was occurring becomes the most memorable or entertaining part of our day after the fact. I truly believe this is God’s mercy at work. I can look back at a picture from four years ago and it helps me remember that whatever messy or frustrating stage we’re going through now is just that: a stage.
I have a suspicion that a decade from now I’m still not going to be the parent I want to be. Of course I hope to make some progress toward cooling my temper, softening my responses, and being generally better in the moment. But, I’m going to have to hope for an awful lot of mercy to be any better these next ten years than I’ve been the first ten. The good news is, I think God will show it just as He has so far.
Another piece of good news is that sometimes our children see us differently than we see ourselves. Take for instance, this drawing the 4th Grader did of the Spouse and me yesterday:
I would like to point out that I can only wish my upper body was in this sort of condition. I don’t routinely wear tank tops, but if my arms were this toned I might reconsider. I mean the Spouse can barely get his hand around my bicep. And, we are both flattered by how well we’re pulling off the skinny jeans. If I could caption this picture I would draw a bubble from the Spouse’s mouth saying, “What are you staring at people? This is exactly how we’ve always looked.”
Between this portrait and the 4th Grader’s upcoming milestone birthday, I think I have my inspiration for the year. Keep striving to be a better parent. And, lift weights.
I would like to say that life will be easier in the next decade–physically speaking–yes! You won’t be lifting, tugging, etc. .as much, but Oh! those teen-age years. I can just see you reasoning with them about WHY they cannot stay out that late, or go to a bar, or drink beer. My parents wouldn’t let me date anyone without asking them first–and they had to know the parents or grandparents of the guy. . .and I am glad. I was often a wet blanket, because I couldn’t go where beer was sold, and I had strict curfews. Again, I am glad. My grandson and his wife are in your shoes, with a newborn daughter, and two other daughters 4 and 5. They should read your blogs. Or better yet, you need to write that book!! OK? When can we expect it?