Parenting Is Harder When You Have Kids

With all of my heart, I want to be a good dad. I really do. To be perfectly honest, given my obsessive, perfectionist tendencies, I want to be the greatest dad ever. But what does it really mean to be a “good parent”? Prior to having kids, I thought I knew. Now, I am beginning to realize that parenthood is not as black and white as I thought it was going to be. The one thing that I do know, is that it is much more difficult than I initially thought. It is also far more entertaining and rewarding than I originally thought, but it is also definitely harder.

I am somewhat ashamed to confess this, but for some reason, I always assumed that I was going to be a really good parent, and that it was going to be easy for me. I thought I had all the answers. I would see parents with a crying baby in a store and think “how in the world can you let your child make such a fuss in public”. Or I would watch a 3 year old throw a fit until their dad agreed to buy them a toy, and I would think to myself “there is no way I am going to let my kids get away with stuff like that”. Parenting was a lot more straightforward before I had kids.

One of my biggest challenges with being a parent is that I rarely, if ever, feel prepared for the wide array of “parenting opportunities” that present themselves on a regular basis. Sure, I read the parenting books, painted the nursery and bought a thousand diapers, but my kids seem to thrive on constantly throwing me curveballs.

Without the luxury of proper preparation, all that I have left to rely on are the behaviors I learned from my parents. And there’s the rub – my parents, probably all parents everywhere, were just as clueless as I am. They were just like me – trying to do the best they could, armed only with the behaviors they had learned from their parents. And so on. And so on.

Parenting takes cat-like reflexes, and split second decision making has not proven to be a strong suit of mine. One second, all is quiet and well in the house, the kids are peacefully coloring together and I have the audacity to think that I have it all under control.

Then, almost as if sensing my foolish pride, my children will erupt. Without warning, one will want something that the other has and World War III breaks out. Peace and harmony are immediately replaced with people crying, crayons flying, name calling and hair pulling. Over something as simple as a green crayon.

As parent, I know restoring harmony in the house falls squarely on my shoulders, but I don’t have the luxury of time to refer to Super Nanny books. Decisions must be made now. So, I rely on what I know. When all else fails, I do what my parents did. That’s all well and good, until one day you wake up to find that you are on a path to becoming your parents, and you are doing the same things to your kids you swore you would never do.

At Tyler’s school, we are still working through some “pulled pocket” issues. At this point, I fully admit that I am largely responsible for these issues. On the first day of school, Tyler’s teachers told us not to make too big a deal out of the pockets. I heard them say that, but in my head, not having any pulled pockets became a measure of validation. Once Tyler had pulled his first pocket, nothing else seemed to matter. My world suddenly revolved around whether or not he had pulled a pocket at school. When I came home from work, it was the first question out of my mouth. Poor kid. Did I mention that I am somewhat obsessive-compulsive?

One day, while driving Tyler to school, I asked him if he was ready to have a good day. He said he was, but that he was worried he might pull a pocket. I tried to get him motivated to have a great day, listen to his teachers and do his best. In a small, scared voice, Tyler asked “If I pull a pocket, will you still love me?” I felt like I had been punched in the stomach. All it took was 10 simple words from my son, and I realized just how little I knew about “good” parenting. He was honestly worried that I wouldn’t love him if he pulled a pocket at school. How did I let that happen? Sometimes kids can find just the right words to finally get their parents to listen.

Speaking of words, my little angel Kailey has always been particularly vocal. Whether arguing the virtue of vegetables (she doesn’t see the value) or refusing to take a nap (“I’ll just go to bed early Daddy”), she has never shied away from speaking her mind. Her older brother has entered a worrisome phase in his life where all of his communication seems to boil down to “wiener”, “booty”, “stupid” or some equally charming derivative of these. I am not sure exactly where he picked this up, but suffice it to say that trying to get him to speak more respectfully is our current project. We have tried everything, with mixed results. Ever the conversationalist, Kailey has started picking up his new words and phrases and throwing them into casual conversation.

Recently, the following conversation took place between me and my sweet, little 2 year old:

Kailey: “Daddy, can I have a jelly bean?”

Me: “No angel, it’s almost dinner time, maybe after dinner.”

Kailey: “Daddy?”

Me: “Yes, love?”

Kailey: “You’re a stinky butthead.”

Everyone in the house stopped and stared at me. We all knew that trouble was brewing, so all eyes were on me to see my reaction. On the one hand it was virtually impossible not to laugh, because I was so caught off guard. What To Expect When You’re Expecting hadn’t adequately prepared me for being called a stinky butthead by my 2 year old daughter. Pressed for time, exasperated by previous failed attempts at cleaning up Tyler’s mouth and completely unprepared for this parenting opportunity, I was at a loss.

My mind raced as I searched for an appropriate plan of action, but I couldn’t come up with anything. I knew I couldn’t let her get away with it, but if previous attempts at logic and reason had failed on Tyler, it was highly doubtful that they would work on her. It’s hard to say exactly what my parents would have done in this situation – I don’t know how many 2 year olds call their parents stinky buttheads – but it probably would have involved some shouting, and perhaps a threat of a spanking or two for good measure. That course of action definitely crossed my mind, but I really didn’t want to resort to fear and violence, so I resorted to the standard time out.

As I sat her down and told her why she was getting a time out, her nod suggested that she understood, but the mischievous glint in her eye told me it might not have completely sunk in. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t a little nervous about her starting preschool next year. I am considering having her wear a shirt to school that simply says, “Don’t blame my parents, I have an older brother!”

It’s funny how much I thought I knew about parenting before I actually became a parent. I had strong opinions about what “good parents” did, and I wasn’t shy about judging others. Now, I know that parenting is one of the toughest jobs I will ever have. For me, I think the best that I can do for my kids is to listen to them, remember to take a deep breath – even while utter chaos is breaking out all around me – and really think. Think about the experiences from my childhood, and learn from the good and the bad from my own parents. Think about the impact of the decision I am about to make, and the importance of trying to do the best thing for my kids. Then, maybe I will feel a little more prepared to make the right decision. Who knows, I might still be wrong as often as I’m right, but at least I’ll know that I’m trying to be a good parent.

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