Saturday, January 4, 2014

Ready To Retire From This Phase of Parenting

Now that my last kid is out of diapers, and I have a mostly self-sufficient seven-year-old and somewhat self-sufficient five-year-old, I'm so over all this care-taking stuff, you guys.

I mean, I've been over it for a long time, but now that I can see that light at the end of the tunnel, it's like, YOU'RE NOT BRUSHING YOUR TEETH YET? I still have to get you dressed? Wipe your butt? Watch you in the street? What is this shit? Get it together, kid!

Poor Brandon. He's such a sweetheart, especially for a three-year-old, but for Christ's sake, I cannot wait until he's like, five, and way more capable of doing things for himself. I'm so ready to retire from this "parenting young kids" phase for good and move onto the next one; one that I think will be a "much better and more fun for everyone!" phase.

I have major short-timer's syndrome.

Those first couple of years after Brandon was born were no joke. For those who aren't familiar, when he came along, Ethan had just turned four and Connor, two. It was hard-core insane, intense, a fucking soul-suck of drudgery and frustration, constant care-taking, crying (them and me), and man alive, I am so glad that is ending.

So as Brandon moves- with agonizing slowness- closer to the dream ages that Ethan and Connor are at, I'm having trouble with my patience and am finding myself trying to skip out on all the care-taking stuff I have hated since basically day one, like baths... I hate that job so much that it's like Oh I can let him go another day! and I do and then he'll smell like a goat and it's like, nope, not a good idea! Can't be that lazy! So I'll throw him in the shower with me to avoid baths at all costs (even though he's now making the observation that I "have hair on my penis." Yes, I am a woman.)

Making sure my impatience doesn't cross over into neglect is a bit of trial and error...

I'm (mostly) kidding, no need to dial up CPS.

Another AMAZING thing I see on the horizon is it's getting easier to take the boys out in public. It's still not ideal and I try to avoid it all costs, but we're moving away from times like this and this and I could not be happier. 

Last Saturday, we met a friend at a jumpy-house place, and not only did I not even take a diaper bag (a risky venture- what if Brandon pissed himself out of excitement at ALL THE JUMPY HOUSES?) I also didn't have to watch them like a hawk. I got to sit at a table and actually talk to my friend while the kids played! I kind of felt... like an adult human person type thing.

Nothing like the time I took them to Chuck E. Cheese's (when the boys were five and under) by myself for a birthday party, only to realize within five minutes of arriving that I was in completely over my head and there was no way I could possibly keep my eye on all three of them at once.

While I was pulling Connor off of the skee ball lane that he was trying to crawl up to better get his ball in the holes, Brandon sat down at a complete stranger's table (out of my sight) and started eating some of their pizza. At that exact moment, Ethan got too far up in one of those blind tunnels and I couldn't see him, so when I actually had a moment to look for him and couldn't find him, I thought he had been kidnapped or was being molested in the bathroom.

We've never been back.

But there is hope that soon, I'll be able to take them to the cold shitty pizza and mostly broken games wonderland by myself and not have shit like that happen. 

Hope, people. It springs eternal.



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