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Curiosity Killed the Parent

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Today’s blog is going to be on a touchy subject. I am going to use the H word! That’s right! In relation to kids!

HATE!

GASP!! How could I?? I’m such a terrible parent!

Do we have that out of our systems now? Look- don’t judge. I’ve done my damn time! I spent years as a child not being allowed to even utter the word “hell”. I got in trouble at school for saying CRAP and BRAIN FART (not even kidding. What the fuck?) I’ve changed years of poopy diapers that contained things no human should ever have to see. I am ALLOWED to hate things. Even if I don’t actually really truly hate them by the actual definition, I can hate them all I want! I hate lots of things- ESPECIALLY when it comes to kids

For example:

I HATE it when my kids come to take a crap in the bathroom while I’m doing my hair/makeup/taking a frickin’ shower/trying to hide from them. There are TWO bathrooms. I HATE THAT SHIT. Literally!

I HATE it when I tell the kids to put on their shoes and we’re already running late and suddenly they remember that they wanted to bring 7 stuffed animals, but not just ANY stuffed animals, specific ones, one of which they can’t find, and they freak the fucking fuck out, making us even more late. Oh, and then they forget how to put on their shoes. Oh yeah. I HATE that.

I HATE it when I put the kids to bed and an hour later, while I’m sitting on the couch trying to unwind from a day full of their BS and shenanigans, I see one of them creepily peeking over the arm of the couch, effectively shaving 10 years off of the end of my life because kids are creepy little shits. HATE IT.

I HATE it when they go to get themselves a snack, and then leave the box of what-the-fuck-ever open on the counter to collect dust. Put it AWAY! Just put it away! And don’t put it back empty! Ugh. I sound like my mom. But yeah, I HATE that!

I HATE it when I catch them chewing their damn toenails or eating their boogers. That is just downright FOUL. Who wouldn’t hate that??

I HATE it when they blow bubbles in their frickin’ milk. I don’t know why. I just do.

Sure, there are plenty more things about them that I love, but you didn’t come here to read that, now did you? I can’t do that unicorn shitting rainbows thing that a lot of moms have the knack for. Sorry, y’all (only not really).
Being a stay at home parent means I have a lot of time to observe. It’s my job to watch over my kids all day long, but I also don’t want to helicopter them like my inner-paranoid urges me to. I have to let them discover and explore on their own, which means observing. Anxious observing.

All this observing has made one thing very very clear: the thing that I love the absolute most about my kids…. is also the thing I HATE the most! It’s quite the conundrum!

When they’re not using toys as projectiles, I find all of my observing fun. It’s really neat to be able to sit and watch the gears in their head spin. Each of my children have such different ways of processing things and carrying out tasks. They’re obnoxiously alike, but completely different.

Holden is a builder. He can make something really awesome out of just about anything. It’s like “Field of Dreams” – If you build it they will come– up in this bitch. I’m pretty impressed.

And then there’s Parker. My youngest, with all the tendencies of a youngest child. I mean that in the best and worst way possible. He’s definitely the baby of the household, he is impatient, and INCREDIBLY imaginative. The kid has his own (creepy as fuck) world, with (creepy as fuck) storylines and (creepy as fuck) characters.

What does this mean for BOTH of them? They’re CURIOUS! …… that’s where you should have gasped. Not at that whole “hate” thing. CURIOUS is the 4-letter (only it’s actually 7. Semantics) word of parenthood.

They always want to *cringe* learn about everything. They must explore. Create. Search. And they always have…. questions…. that just sent a chill down my spine! All of those things are good things, I KNOW! but if you have kids, you know that all of those things can also be very very bad things. VERY VERY BAD!

Curiosity lead to my kid deciding to eject himself off of my yoga ball onto the fireplace. The brick fireplace. One 911 call later… curiosity is not my friend.

Curiosity lead to my kid attempting to eat pieces of his windowsill. I just…. I fucking can’t. Curiosity is an asshole.

Curiosity lead to the consumption of a dead bug. DON’T TRY TO TELL ME IT’S PROTEIN! IT’S NASTY! Curiosity is disgusting!!!

Curiosity was to blame yesterday when my kid wondered what it would be like to shove all 45 of his stuffed animals down the stairs along with his blanket and pillow, and ended up taking a tumble along with them. He’s fine, my nerves are not. Curiosity sucks.

Curiosity also opened up the doors for Holden to discover he really loves the arts, has crazy talent, and wants to be a Disney animator- which I love…. it taught both my kids that they CAN in fact reach the shelves in the closet so they can get their OWN damn snacks, which I SERIOUSLY LOVE… and probably an immeasurable amount of other positive things BUT THAT’S BESIDE THE POINT!!!

I hate it. But I love it. But I HATE IT.
See?? This is why parents are crazy.

Posted on March 20, 2015 by Holdin' Holden 1 Comment
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