Childhood matters a bunch
I was going to post about coming home, but instead, I am taking a 360. Thanks to noradannan for point me to electric boogaloo's blog.
So, yes, taken from electric boogaloo's post on family life, because this hit the spot, and sap that I am, made me tear up. I think perfectly sums up so much of what I feel parenthood is about, helping our kids to start their own story:
...childhood matters a bunch. Every person uses their impression of their own childhood to create the foundation of the story of themselves. It’s where you get the mythology of who you are and who you have to be and what you have to act like when things are exciting or disappointing or really, really hard to do.
...And now I am a mother. It all goes around again, new batch of childhoods.
We mess up a lot. When Nicolaus and Graham are in their 20s they will tell their friends that oh my god my parents used to do this and this and that and the house was always messy and we had to make our own lunches and this one time my mom made a big deal about taking us to the new Lakeshore store and we went there and it hadn’t opened yet and then a homeless lady harrassed us in the parking lot and it was weird.
We are bad at potty training. We are bad at consistent schedules, bedtimes, and remembering to give allowances. We spend too much time in the car. We eat out too much. Maybe I spend too much time with them. And not enough. I’m disengaged, on the phone, working on drawings, packing orders. I’m too involved, too over protective, too fussy about what they eat. How can I seriously worry about high fructose corn syrup going into a kid who eats boogers?
...Of course whether we get it all right or all wrong doesn’t matter. It’s their story, and they are sketching the outline of it every day. We have no control over the way they remember it later on. Will they remember only the days when I was cranky and frazzled and couldn’t get them to class on time because I locked my keys in the car but didn’t know they were in the car so I spent an hour stomping around like dumbzilla RAWR I SUCK AT STUFF upturning furniture and emptying drawers and CAN’T FIND KEYS and retracing my stomping steps through the apartment over and over? Or will they remember finding a giant limb in the back yard and draping sheets over it to make a fort, and eating strawberries, and laughing at their hilarious parents’ hilarious jokes? Will they be glad that we homeschooled? Will they be grateful for our choices, or resentful? We can’t know.
So we hedge our bets and try to just do our best with the energy that we have on any given day. And we make sure we are honest: Some lucky people have perfect parents but you don’t. All you got is regular messy humans who think you are the coolest thing they’ve ever made.blockquote>
But, no, really, that's the part that really hit home. It's the truth that rings so clear:
...Of course whether we get it all right or all wrong doesn’t matter. It’s their story, and they are sketching the outline of it every day. We have no control over the way they remember it later on.... So we hedge our bets and try to just do our best with the energy that we have on any given day. And we make sure we are honest: Some lucky people have perfect parents but you don’t. All you got is regular messy humans who think you are the coolest thing they’ve ever made.
So, yes, taken from electric boogaloo's post on family life, because this hit the spot, and sap that I am, made me tear up. I think perfectly sums up so much of what I feel parenthood is about, helping our kids to start their own story:
...childhood matters a bunch. Every person uses their impression of their own childhood to create the foundation of the story of themselves. It’s where you get the mythology of who you are and who you have to be and what you have to act like when things are exciting or disappointing or really, really hard to do.
...And now I am a mother. It all goes around again, new batch of childhoods.
We mess up a lot. When Nicolaus and Graham are in their 20s they will tell their friends that oh my god my parents used to do this and this and that and the house was always messy and we had to make our own lunches and this one time my mom made a big deal about taking us to the new Lakeshore store and we went there and it hadn’t opened yet and then a homeless lady harrassed us in the parking lot and it was weird.
We are bad at potty training. We are bad at consistent schedules, bedtimes, and remembering to give allowances. We spend too much time in the car. We eat out too much. Maybe I spend too much time with them. And not enough. I’m disengaged, on the phone, working on drawings, packing orders. I’m too involved, too over protective, too fussy about what they eat. How can I seriously worry about high fructose corn syrup going into a kid who eats boogers?
...Of course whether we get it all right or all wrong doesn’t matter. It’s their story, and they are sketching the outline of it every day. We have no control over the way they remember it later on. Will they remember only the days when I was cranky and frazzled and couldn’t get them to class on time because I locked my keys in the car but didn’t know they were in the car so I spent an hour stomping around like dumbzilla RAWR I SUCK AT STUFF upturning furniture and emptying drawers and CAN’T FIND KEYS and retracing my stomping steps through the apartment over and over? Or will they remember finding a giant limb in the back yard and draping sheets over it to make a fort, and eating strawberries, and laughing at their hilarious parents’ hilarious jokes? Will they be glad that we homeschooled? Will they be grateful for our choices, or resentful? We can’t know.
So we hedge our bets and try to just do our best with the energy that we have on any given day. And we make sure we are honest: Some lucky people have perfect parents but you don’t. All you got is regular messy humans who think you are the coolest thing they’ve ever made.blockquote>
But, no, really, that's the part that really hit home. It's the truth that rings so clear:
...Of course whether we get it all right or all wrong doesn’t matter. It’s their story, and they are sketching the outline of it every day. We have no control over the way they remember it later on.... So we hedge our bets and try to just do our best with the energy that we have on any given day. And we make sure we are honest: Some lucky people have perfect parents but you don’t. All you got is regular messy humans who think you are the coolest thing they’ve ever made.