Sometimes It Pays Off

I joke often about the trials and tribulations about parenting a threenage boy.  How many challenges it makes me face that I never considered before.  And yes, even how I feel like I am failing as a parent the majority of the time.  

The thing is, I kind of feel like being a part the sisterhood of motherhood is sharing these feelings.  We laugh at satirical blogs and memes and Facebook lists because they ring so clearly with truth.  And I know I am not alone in feeling like most days I am screwing it all up and all I want it to pull the covers over my head, cry and eat ice cream.  

If you have ever met me in real life and we've ever talked about parenting, you'd know that I cannot stress enough that I love being a mom.  I was born to be a mom.  It is a passion greater than any craft I have ever perfected, any dish or dessert people tell me I could sell, any blog post I've ever written and any joke I have ever cracked.  And if you've ever seen me in public, you may have caught me speaking sternly, smacking a hand, or even doling out a "time out" to Max.  And to the people that tell me to my face or worse, whisper behind my back that I'm "too hard on him," here's the thing:  I have one job in this life. It's to make sure that when I'm gone, that he isn't an asshole.  That's it.  End of game.  

And yes.  I am very strict.  I make him stand in the corner for not listening or hitting.  I make him apologize when he's done wrong.  Even if he's apologizing to the dog.  I don't let him win every game.  I make him let the girls in his music class walk in before him.   I make him do worksheets for tot school.  I make him say please and thank you.  I make him clean his plate and wash the table and pick up his toys and put his laundry away and mind his manners.  I make him hold himself accountable. Because that's life.

And I make him jump in puddles. I make him catch frogs and inspect bugs.  I make him color and glue and glitter and paint all over my dining room table that has seen better days.  I make him cook with me.  I make him read me stories and come up with knock-knock jokes.  I make him mash play doh with my potato masher and cut it with my pizza cutter.  I make him listen as I use the wrong words to songs to make them silly and him laugh uncontrollably.  I make him jump on the bed.  I make him let me chase him around the house and poke that one spot just below his ribs that tickles him more than the rest.

What a terrible life for a strong-willed boy.

And every so often, I feel like I am failing.  But not today.  

Today we had the chance to play with a new friend who joined us for tot school.  She is a few months younger than Max and had no expectations about what tot school with us would be like.  So when she couldn't sit for story time, it was my son, not me,  who said "we sit like this and listen to mommy" as he sat with his hands in his lap and his big brown eyes looking into mine.  When she wanted to grab a tray before completing the first one, it was Max, not me,  who said "we really need to clean this first and put it away.  That way, we have room for another game."   When his friend wanted his water or his toy or his crayons, he gave them up and said "It's ok.  I'm a good sharer and I can take a turn later.  She's littler than I am."  When we walked into the restaurant for lunch, he let her and her mom go in before us "Ladies first, mommy."

So today.  Today I won at being a mom.  Today, today I did my job.  Today I won't feel like I failed.

Tonight as I read him one last book and sang him one last song and gave him one last hug and one (okay 10) more kisses, I thanked him.   "Thank you for being so good today and setting a good example for your friend buddy."  "You're welcome, Mommy.  I'm a big boy now."  he yawned back with the last bits of energy he had in him.  "You are a big boy, Champ.  And I love you."  

"I love you too, Mommy.  You're my best friend."

I can't wait to see what happens tomorrow.

Until Soon,

Kate