A Little Understanding
Parenting is hard.
I know. Stating the obvious, right?
There are wonderfully easy days, simple things, like going to the pool or playing a game or reading a book or agreeing on a movie. There are happy-but-draining things, like Christmas or throwing a birthday party (which are in danger every year of turning into an event. How did we get here?? But that’s a blog for another day.) There are not-so-great days, like when you are running late getting out the door to work and to school because someone just would not get out of bed, into the shower, and down to breakfast. On any given day, this could, in reality, be me, my husband, or my son. Most likely, though, it is the 13 year-old.
Then there are the bad moments. These are the worst. Not only because they are, by nature, bad, but because they run the danger of seeping into your entire day, if you let it. I am not proud of the times I have yelled at my son, and just because we have all done it doesn’t make me feel better about it. Sometimes, you just have to take a moment, take a breath, forgive, and move on. Take a Mulligan. And maybe revisit the how and why when you are a bit calmer-to figure out what you could do better next time.
I was not great at that growing up. My parents started young; they had 4 kids under the age of 7 by the time they were 26 years old. They didn’t have access to all the books and research and parenting theories that we do now. They did their best with what they had been given. I’m sure that, like me, they learned as they went along. There’s a lyric from a musical called Dear Evan Hansen that says, regarding parenting, “Does anybody have a map? Anybody happen to know how the hell to do this?” Parenting is a like driving to an unfamiliar place without GPS or roadmap, and only the vaguest directions given by those who have gone there before. “Oh, you may not want to turn down THAT road…” I can only hope that whatever mistakes we make are turned into lessons learned.
I’ll be honest, I didn’t always get along well with my dad. I think we were too much alike, maybe, with just enough difference in our emotional makeup that I felt he didn’t understand what was in my head, in my heart. Just as I couldn’t see things from his point of view. I got better at that, though, once I became a parent. I don’t agree with all the decisions made, but I understand more. And lately, my Parkinson’s is giving me a new understanding of Dad, and what he is going through. See, dad has always been active, has always been working. He is a do-er. But as he gets older, there is less and less that his body, his eyes, his ears, his mind will let him do. And yet, he still tries his best to contribute, to feel needed, important. He does not give up. I hold this attitude of his tightly in my heart. See, I hope that as my Parkinson’s progresses, that I will have that same attitude, strength, determination, stubbornness as he does. I feel I understand him now, better than ever before, and I hope to carry away this lesson that he is giving me, whether he means to be giving it or not.
That, right there, is the hardest part of parenting….the part where you are never finished.
But I think it may the best part, too.
Peace,
Kathie