Parenting
On the most delightful days, I calmly and creatively fend off imaginary creatures. I can persuade my children that our home is coated with magical Monster-proof paint or that the Monster is a pint-sized figure donning a tutu while singing “Puff the Magic Dragon.”
On the challenging days, frustration bubbles over as my child ascends the stairs for the umpteenth time. “Just go to bed already!” is often the last thing they hear from me before drifting off.
During the best moments, everyone is well-groomed, myself included. The children smell fresh and sweet, their nails neatly trimmed, hair styled, and faces clean of crumbs or any mysterious brown smudges.
On the worst days, they resemble little wild animals, and I catch a glimpse of my own disheveled reflection while brushing my teeth at night, often shocked by what I see.
On the brightest days, I focus intently on them when they speak. I set aside distractions, kneel to their level, and strive to retain the memory of their innocent voices exclaiming, “Mama, look!”
Conversely, on the darker days, I find myself exclaiming, “Oh my goodness, please stop singing that song before I leap out the window.”
On the better days, I can watch patiently as my child attempts for the thirtieth time to put their favorite, albeit stained, t-shirt on the right way, resisting the urge to assist.
On the rough days, I wrestle them into the clothes I prefer, resulting in tears as their mismatched faces clash with the carefully coordinated outfits I’ve chosen.
During the best moments, I become the chronicler of their lives, the one who will share stories of their antics, like the time when, at two years old, they exclaimed, “Holy Shit!” after successfully using the potty.
On the worst days, I find myself rushing and barking “Hurry Up!” as I focus on my to-do list, forgetting the little moments that matter.
On the best days, I blissfully ignore the chaos around me—the laundry, the dishes, the clutter—and ask, “Shall we go for a walk outside?” Their excitement makes me feel guilty for not escaping reality more often.
On the tough days, the pressures of life overwhelm me, and I unintentionally tap into that frightening “mom voice” that I didn’t even know I had.
When the inevitable homework tears arrive, on the good days, I set the work aside for a comforting hug, recognizing that some things aren’t as crucial as love.
On the bad days? I ramble on about the assignment until I lose track of my own thoughts, reminding myself why homeschooling is not for me.
On the best days, I take a generous dose of Chill Out. I embrace the moment and truly relax; life is rarely a catastrophe.
On the worst days, I try to grip everything tightly, only to realize I’ve lost control, leaving me feeling frustrated and confused.
The best days find me nestled on the couch, reading to my children as they snuggle in, piling books around us until they gaze at me with hopeful eyes, asking, “Just one more?”
On the worst days, time slips away, and I realize I have no moments to spare for reading.
In the best moments, I wish, “Please remember this.” Yet on the hardest days, I secretly hope they forget.
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Summary: Parenting is a rollercoaster of emotions, oscillating between cherished moments and challenging days. While the best days are filled with patience, connection, and joyful memories, the worse ones can lead to frustration and chaos. Embracing the good and learning from the bad is part of the journey, making every day a unique experience.