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How important understanding not being able to understand is

Parenthood is a never ending journey, one that no matter how many obstacles we overcome, or validation we may receive along the way- we will NEVER have all the answers to. Those that claim to have all of the answers are totally full of shit and probably know less than everyone else.

The roads we travel on are mostly unpaved and the majority of them wind uphill in a serpentine pattern and rarely do you see a face that looks kind or familiar. We spend weeks trudging through rain and mud, and we wonder how we could ever continue on this way or if we should turn back- and then the sun peeks through the clouds and we know, without a word being spoken, that we’re going in the right direction.
We know when we start this journey that it will never end, not truly. We may reach the end of one path, but then will begin another with its own potholes and dead ends and no matter how defeated we may feel- there is no giving up. Perhaps we will mumble it under our breath and play with the thought in our minds- how nice it would be to just sit down and relax for ONCE- but we don’t. We can’t. It’s not in us. We push on, because we know that no matter how few days there are where the sun peeks through the clouds and kisses our cheeks to encourage us to keep up the pace- someone else is counting on us to continue down this path, and that someone is more important than ourselves.

I have long since accepted that I will never be the perfect parent with the perfect children with the perfect house and perfect clothes who never fight or back talk or have days where we still love each other, but don’t like each other very much.
I have come to terms with the fact that I will NEVER understand the appeal of Spongebob, or why my kids hate delicious cheez-its yet inhale Goldfish even though they taste like cardboard. It won’t ever make sense to me to refuse naps when we all know that naps are fantastic, or requesting something specific for breakfast lunch or dinner, getting it and then acting absolutely disgusted and offended. There is no way that drinking murky bathtub water will ever be as appetizing to me as it is to my children- and to be quite honest I don’t want it to be. I just want it to stop!
Booger eating is an art form that I don’t see myself ever being fully be able to appreciate, as is thumb-sucking and toenail biting.

Over the years I have learned to deal with Legos- even though those sonsabitches are determined to cause my untimely demise via foot bottom. I have tolerated without snapping many hours worth of playdoh playing that resulted in tiny colorful sprinkles covering my kitchen floor and caulking the seams in my table in a color that simply does not match. I survived a 12 hour car ride. Twice. Dozens of booboos I have cleaned and kissed and bandaged, even though the sight of blood makes me want to barf, and I have sat through hundreds if not thousands of movies and TV shows that I can hardly stomach just because my kids love them so much.

Although I know that there is still much to learn and I am still only at the very beginnings of my parenthood path, I think all things considered I’m not doing too bad. Of course we can ALL do better, but if there’s one thing I’ve begun to understand during a windy uphill climb- it’s that it’s okay to NOT do our best all the time. Even though it might bother me to not be perfect, or to mess up, make a huge mistake- in all of this understanding of not understanding I know that striving for perfection is probably not the right way to go… even though I’m sure it’s a killer thigh workout.

Even with all of this self-aware understanding of the not understanding of the journey that is parenthood, and the acceptance of all of these things I can’t change and allowing of things that I don’t personally like but have realized it isn’t all about me so personal feelings must be put aside- there is still ONE thing. ONE THING I cannot tolerate. I don’t give a flying fart in space if I understand that I don’t understand the appeal. I don’t care if my kids love it to the moon and back and it gives them MUCH joy and happiness. Not even my love for them and wanting them to be happy will change my mind about this- I hate it, and it ain’t happenin’:

Kiddie music. KIDDIE FRICKIN’ MUSIC!
I hate it. I hate it SO much!
Wheels on the bus? I hope they fall off. Barney theme song? Fogeddaboutit. Head shoulders knees and… you’d better not finish that sentence if you don’t wanna pull back a bloody stump. They couldn’t just leave ring around the rosie alone? Ohhhh, it isn’t relevant- it’s about the plague! I’m gonna put a plague on your ass if you change it one more hokey irritating crapfest. Don’t get me STARTED on the damn hokey pokey. Patty cake? I’ll patty cake your face!

I know it sounds ridiculous- of all of the things we parents put up with every single day that might drive those without kids absolutely batty- the ONE thing I cannot handle is obnoxious annoying kiddie music.

You know what else I understand in this long perilous journey? That I don’t HAVE to. Nope!
Not only do we not have to be perfect all the time, or make all the right decisions or say all the right things- but we don’t have to love everything they love either- and we most certainly don’t have to say YES all the time. Once you understand that, I swear it makes the annoyances so much easier to tolerate.

Posted on February 8, 2013 by Holdin' Holden 0 Comment
Holdin' Holden

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