Have you ever made a comment to one of your children and then been racked with guilt for hours, if not days? What is it about our offspring, that cause us to react in such a wide array of emotions? Could it be the fact that they are ours and, hence, doomed to wear many of our genetic characteristics like a scarlet letter? How is it possible to see both the devil's horn and the halo of an angel on the same little head, depending on how the light reflects off of their shiny, golden ringlets, or which profile they choose to share with us at any given time? Regardless of the conundrum posed by these rhetorical queries, one thing is certain: our kids bring out the best, and worst, in all of us.
When I get older, I'm never going to be mean to my kids!
I still remember the first time I spouted this nonsense to my parents. We were living in central Ohio, riding home from church one Sunday morning and, as usual, my mouth was writing checks my body couldn't cash. I received one of my seemingly endless 'tickets to discipline' and the only ridiculous response I could muster was how patient and understanding I would always be to my children, because my parents were so cruel and unusual to me.
What I found, rather quickly, is, the only thing unusual about my profound, illogical, logic was how flawed my perspective and rationale were, at the ripe old age of eleven. I mean, clearly I had all the answers. I was just asking the wrong questions...
Karma is a female dog
They knew. They knew, they knew. And they knew that we didn't know they knew. But, how is that possible? How did they constantly out maneuver us at each turn, so agile and ninja like? I mean, they were our parents. They were stupid. Well, they played dumb...and they were brilliant.
Just as often as utilizing discipline as "teaching moments", they may just put us outside and lock they door, forcing us to resolve our conflicts however we saw fit. What was that all about? Were they too blind to realize we might kill each other? No, but they may have been hoping.
And the little mental checklists, we now understand they kept hidden in the deep recesses of their minds all of those years; were they realizing the exponential growth of the wisdom instilled in them by their parents, all those years before? Were they celebrating the sowing and harvesting of their personal bushel of karma, then clipping us off our own little keepsake, like the root of a Hosta plant? It gives one pause...
My parents are mocking me
Its funny, watching them now, sitting there basking in their arrogant glory, quiet little smirks crossing their wrinkly old faces, as we struggle to wrest control from one adolescent to the next, like a finely choreographed scene out of West Side Story. They don't say a word, just make a little extra noise tuning the page of the Daily Bugle, clearing that nasty frog from the dark hollows of their grainy esophageal canal. Come to think of it, they are acting in the exact same fashion that their parents acted before them. The main difference being that I actually liked their parents.
Maybe I don't hate my kids. Maybe I'm still extremely resentful of the omnipresent nature of my parents and their clear parental superiority, in all things decidedly parental. I don't know, but if my dad gives that contented sigh one more time, after biting into a Lay's potato chip...
I wish they were home more
This is the prevailing attitude that lingers for eight weeks a semester, then is extinguished eight hours into their break...any break. What does 'home more' mean, exactly? Do I mean, 'so I can ignore them more while they're around me?' Do I feel an overwhelming urge to heap more of my own parental inadequacies on their slight frames?
I know, it must be because, when they are away, the silence is deafening. We can't stand not having the chaos, and fighting, and screaming, and...
How did I fall and hit every branch on the Tree of Ignorance, while for all intents and purposes, my parents came out of this thing unscathed? Funny, I do wish they were home more...
What year do they graduate, again?
Now, hold on a minute. There they go using that Jedi mind trick on us again. Just when you think it's safe to believe they are sane, they find a new, improved, button to push; one that couldn't possibly have been discovered before, in the history of mankind. No, this level of disobedience and disrespect is presidential (look, I made a funny).
The ingenious nature of a multitude of their arguments, is so absurd, you have to simply sit back and admire the sheer tenacity with which they display their self-evident "truths". You've heard it before: 'If they would put half as much energy into...', but it's true. If they would only listen, our lives would all be so much easier. 'Don't focus on winning the battle, win the war'. Well, I've got to tell you, if they're not careful, this is going to turn into a single battle war. Pipe down, pops, I can hear you crunching...
I love them in spite of my flaws
This is the greatest truth, and the most glaring weakness. They are mine and they are a direct reflection of me, so they can't be blamed for 'inconvenient truths', or those beyond the realm of their control. What they can do, is overcome them. They can strive to prove me wrong every day, to make a better life for themselves and their families. They can mature and be smarter, and wiser than we are, as parents (I know, not exactly the 'Fosbury Flop', huh?). They can grow to be benevolent and kind, and...greater.
If they hate me now, my ignorance and ineptitude, then I must be doing something right. This is all we can do for them; give them the tools to succeed and the perseverance for when they fail. Faith and destiny will take care of the rest. Don't hate your kids...all of the time.
Until tomorrow,
Scott
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