So my little bugger is turning three tomorrow. I'm going through the classic shell shock that every parent experiences. Where's the time gone? How have I molded him so far? Is he becoming a strong person or am I making a mess of this parenthood thing? I should quit wondering because I'll never know until it's too late. Though I know better than to waste time worrying, I'm neurotic and obsessive, so I'll continue freely. But, was I really ready for this? Hell no. Please add impulsive to the list of "Jenn's character flaws". I lept into having children because it felt right and good. It seemed like the most magnificent thing to be able to do. Boy, was I in for surprises of all sorts.
I don't handle messes or loud noises well. I hate having my hair pulled. Don't rush me or boss me around. Forget being too touchy-feely. And, screw you modern day Nickelodeon--you take away Salute Your Shorts, you take away my loyalty.
Yet, here I am in a routine of constantly cleaning up whatever that mysterious sticky substance was from the patio door and listening to squeals so high pitched it could make a dog want to cry in pain. My hair gets ripped out in chunks just for funsies and I'm a human jungle gym. Worst of all, I must bear these stupid new shows of Nickelodeon and participate in the songs. (Well, maybe I don't hate it as much as I say.)
I get zero time to myself and even my shower time isn't a private affair. If I have something in mind I'd like to buy for myself, I usually end up taking the allotted money and spending it on things for the kids. And forget about having a date night with my husband! I can't seem to allow myself to get a babysitter to go out for a movie due to the guilty feelings it invokes. While it sounds all negative, it's not. These things can be frustrating and exhausting at times and I won't be fake and pretend like it doesn't get under my skin sometimes. But, overall, I enjoy feeling needed, and even better still, I feel wanted.
Nobody can make you feel as good as your child can, I think. You always look beautiful in your child's eyes even if you're a mess. They make all the mistakes ok because they're only interested in today. (Wish I could take a lesson in that.) So, when I look at them, I silently tell myself not to fuck this up because, really, they're all that matters. I mean, who else is going to change MY diapers when I get old and zombie-esque?
I wish I could adequately express to my children how much they're loved and how thankful I am for them. They should know how special they are and that they make others around them feel special, too. Thank you, Gavin "Smiley" Riley, for keeping me on my toes with your unusually smart arguments, dance parties, and dino/snake battles. Thank you for reminding me to have patience, to forgive and learn, as well as to use everything as a teaching tool. It's been 3 amazing years and many more to come.
Now, I need to go build a pen for some plastic cows and horses. Yeehaw!
"I'm feeling rough, I'm feeling raw
I'm in the prime of my life..."
-MGMT, Time to Pretend
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