I've been having a hard time lately. Just a darn hard time. I was under the impression that once my children were no longer infants or toddlers that life was just going to magically be easier. Well, I. Was. Mistaken. I have to admit, I both hate and love 5 years old. Life isn't easier. In fact, it seems much harder and a lot more frustrating. I have read so many blog posts lately about parenting simultaneously being the best and most horrible thing at the same time. And for me, it is. I mean I ADORE my children. I ADORE being a parent. And each moment with my children is the best thing that has ever happened to me.
After putting that out there, I have to say, that I feel so damn guilty all the time. I feel that I'm not doing enough, giving them enough, spending enough quality time with them. I'm so sick of this pinterest, super parent culture because it is yet another thing I cannot live up to. I just can't. I can't make sure they only watch 30 minutes of TV a day. I can't read to them for hours. I can't make sure that each moment in their life is educational. I can't force my kids to learn to read at age 5 even though his peers are, because, he isn't there yet. I can't justify homeschooling when my kids are "academically behind." I feel so inadequate. So inept.
Right now, at this moment, my child is yelling at me. Because he thinks he is right. Because he is super intelligent and is able to justify everything. Because at age 5 he should be a lawyer. If his sister is hitting him and I put her in a time out, he will come over to me and argue that she was simply being a child and that there is no need to place her in time out. After hitting the dog, and getting into trouble, he will not stop talking until he has the last word. Just this morning after getting a talking to from his teacher about fighting with another child he told her that their talk took up 40 minutes and its as a waste of his school morning. THE. LAST. WORD. ALL. THE. DAMN. TIME!!! He is the same child that after a day of going to the zoo, getting ice cream, having a picnic, playing all afternoon on the trampoline, and getting his favorite supper, will forget all the fun happenings of the day and declare it absolute shit because I won't let him sleep in a tent outside that night. There is nothing I can do to show this child he has a good life. There is no "perfect day" that is perfect enough. And it saddens me because I see my depression. I SEE IT. He cannot look past one bad thing and fixates on it so heavily that all is shit. He doesn't understand how his sister can find a penny on the ground and her day is the best day ever. I don't feel that it's the product of spoiling my child as I say no much more than I say yes. My child does not have a room full of toys. In fact, we went through his things and donated much of it. I don't know what it is, but to me it's a parenting fail.
And this frustration leads to me pulling away. I can't do it all, so I do what I can, I feel it's not enough. This theme hits me over and over again. It's a me fail. It's me. I cannot live up to the expectations of myself that I have built up in my head. So I try and do it all and I can't and so I make stricter expectations and the cycle repeats. I expect too much of myself and don't know how to stop. And this, this is what my child does to himself.
In a talk we had the other day, we worked on this phrase: "It's okay to be wrong, because that's how I learn things." And I feel that I, ME, Elisa, needs to learn this also. "It's okay not to be everything. I am just a human. If I love, if I do my best, that is all that is needed." We'll see how my pessimistic child and his pessimistic mother pan out.
