P for Parenting, P for Pride

Parenting: it is a mixed bag.  You are happy, you are sad, you feel like you own it, you feel like it owns you.  You are sure you are doing everything right, you are sure you are doing nothing right.  It is easy, it has never been harder, you love it, you want to run away from it.  It can seem like everyone around you has all the answers and are doing everything right, so you make snarky remarks about them to make yourself feel better.  This works for awhile.  

With a teen, a tween and a big kid, parenting lately has been something that I feel like I just joined.  I have felt at a loss on how to deal with bad behavior that doesn't stop. I have felt lost on helping kids through crushing blows. I have felt meaner than Cruella DeVil ever was when I yelled "This conversation is over!  You are doing it." and walked away.  I probably even kicked one of the dogs out of the way as I did it.  Bill and I have had countless talks about what it is, what are we doing, what are we doing wrong and wondering if parenting ever gets fun again.  We even started to wax nostalgic about the crying poop years; the 0-3 years when everyone is either crying or pooping or crying and pooing at the same time and you feel like your life is one vicious cycle of crying and poop and you will be mired in the poop years forever.  

Definitely crying and pooping.

But they pass; everyone eventually poops on their own and the crying tapers off as well.  So we know that these hard years of parenting will pass too and we will be left behind as the kids move on, so we try to find the joy in it.  Even the crying poop years had joy.  Small warm bodies fresh from a tub smelling like Johnson's baby wash and encased in ducky pajamas melting into you as you read a bedtime story.  Sigh.  But now, in all honesty, it can be awfully hard to find that joy amid the drama and confusion and hormones.  

This week I was incredibly blessed to find moments with all three of my kids that made me see the people they are becoming.  That made me realize all the drama, confusion and hormones and relative insanity that is our day to day is shaping these kids into the adults they will become.  As I realized this, I was overcome with pride.  The weary of the past few weeks was replaced with pride.  Glowing, heart-exploding, tear-leaking pride.  Not pride in myself or my parenting, but pride in what these kids are achieving, what they are doing and who they will become.  

The teen is a driver.  A registered, approved by the state of Texas driver.  She operates a motor vehicle mostly to take herself to and from work.  She may drive me crazy with her inability to pick up after herself or hear what I am saying, but I am so proud of how she handles responsibility.  She even drove her sister to school one day this week and treated her to Starbucks on the way. Glow.  The tween competed in her first ever athletic competition and while I am sorry for her it was 90+ that day, I was so glad for the excuse of the big sunglasses I got to wear that hid my my leaky-eye pride.  Sniff.  And the boy?  He stomped off to school because he was angry at me and in doing so ignored our neighbor who was telling him to have a good day.  When I told him later that day he had to go over and apologize, he didn't argue.  He went out the door and across the street and did it.  Heart-exploding.  A perfect trifecta of moments showing me that they do hear us.  They do get it.  They will be good people.

I guess that parenting goes through stages of development as the kids move through their stages.  Hands-on, hands-off, tolerant, involved, wait-and-see, jump right in.  It is confusing, it is hard and sometimes it is no fun at all. Maybe one day we will look back on these years of drama, confusion and hormones and think of the joy.  Ha!  Okay, I hope we can look back at these years of drama, confusion and hormones and remember the pride.