It's Okay You Don't Like Your Kids

A recent status update from a friend really struck me today. She has been having a tough time with her child and asked why parents aren't open with each other about parenting difficulties. I think it's pretty simple but not something we, as parents, want to admit. We want to put on that facade of being a perfect parent with perfect children. It's the same thing we do with marriages, or with friendships, or careers. We don't want to admit we have failures, that we struggle, that we're weak, that sometimes life is hard to manage. We want to put on a happy face and show everyone that everything is perfect, that we live fabulous lives with fabulous friends, fabulous spouses, and of course, fabulous children.

But the truth is, like with all things mentioned above, there will be good times and there will be bad times and you are not fooling anyone by pretending things are always perfect. Nothing has taught me that as much as being a parent. You cannot control your kids...period. You begin to realize no matter how hard you try to put up a perfect facade, your kids are going make it difficult to keep it together. They're going to be the ones screaming in the check-out aisle in Target trying to get you to buy them some chocolate. They're going to be the ones throwing themselves on the floor because they don't want to leave the party. They're going to be the ones who tell you you're "the meanest mommy ever!"

Several years ago I was talking on the phone with a friend who recently had a baby. I, being childless at the time, was gushing about her baby and how joyful it must be and blah, blah, blah. I couldn't believe it when she broke down and told me that although she loved her son so unbelievably much she had never known she would have the urge to pinch him in frustration. I was blown away...and very judgmental at the time.

Then I had my first child and understood what she meant. My first was very fussy for the first couple months. She had to be held, and bounced, and walked, and...basically I couldn't stop moving or she was screaming unless asleep. It was a very trying time and I had thought this must be how all babies were. One night as my husband and I collapsed in complete exhaustion after a long day of trying to console her, he said, "Now I get why some people hit their kids." Of course he would NEVER do that and he would NEVER condone it. I think what he meant was when you have a child who is needy and fussy and whiny and you are exhausted physically and emotionally, you feel like you are just going to snap and do some

Although she was tough at age 3,
she has turned into a very caring and
well behaved 6-year-old.

thing stupid. Kids can take a normal, reasonable and rational adult and turn them into someone who is filled with anger and resentment.

I've had these feelings with all of my kids at some point in their lives. My first child was a fussy baby but turned into a wonderful infant and toddler. Then she turned 3. I think that may have been one of the worst years of my life. Her tantrums were out of control and I had no idea how to deal with it...and I'm an educated professional who works with children for a living. The fact that I worked with children this age made me feel even more inadequate as a parent and a professional. How was I supposed to be advising parents when I had a child who was, nicely put, a monster? I braced myself for her preschool conference sure that her behavior was spilling out into environments beyond our home but we were informed she was "perfect" at preschool. Although I was happy she could keep it together at school it made me feel worse and that I was the focus of all her aggression and anger.

He's still a busy guy but
he has learned how to play
and participate appropriately.

My second child was a good baby but as soon as he could move he was into everything. I was constantly putting together everything he destroyed. I found him pulling everything out of cupboards, drinking water out of the toilet, and one time I found him on top of the washing machine. I'm still not sure how he got up there. Although he was not screaming and throwing himself on the ground, cleaning up after him and just keeping him safe was absolutely exhausting. After dealing with his destruction all day simple things he would do would set me off and I would literally cry over spilt milk.

And now my third is right in the midst of being extremely whiny and needy. I pick her up, she whines. I put her down, she whines. I get her a drink, she throws it on the ground. I try to play with her, she yells, "NO!" and hits me in the face. It's tough. It's hard to listen to whining ALL DAY LONG. It wears on my nerves and causes me to have outbursts not only at her but at her older siblings as well.

Don't let that smile fool you, she's
pure ornery at this moment in time.

Am I ashamed that I yell at my kids? Of course. Am I humiliated by the way they behave? Yes. Are there times when I don't like them very much? Absolutely. It's normal, though. Parenting is hard. It's the hardest thing I will ever do. Thankfully I have a partner who is here to help me and calm me down and let me take a break when I'm at the end of my rope.

And although I do not like my kids sometimes, I ALWAYS love them. I have told my husband several times I am so thankful that we were blessed to be parents to our children because I could not love anyone as much as I love them. That is the greatest gift God gives us when we becomes parents. He gives us the gift of unconditional love so no matter how hard times get and how trying our kids are, we will always love them.

So to all of those parents out there who are struggling right now, it's okay. You are not alone. It's okay you don't like your kids at this moment in time. We know you love them and do everything you can to be a good parent. Hang in there...this too shall pass.

Dear World News Now

Oh, how I've missed you. We had three brief affairs...the first lasting 10 weeks, the second 8, the third only 6 fleeting weeks. I loved your company but hated the fact that we spent so much time together. Ours was a love that could never last...

I would wake to a crying baby and there you were, keeping me awake and entertained as I nursed each of my three children. You made me laugh, you made me cry...sometimes you made it difficult for me to go back to sleep as you drew me into celebrity gossip or some bizarre story. And when you would actually have breaking news in the middle of the night, you made me feel as if you were trusting me with an exceptional secret. It would somehow validate my life in the endless continuum of nursing, dirty diapers, greasy hair and sweats covered in spit-up and other mystery stains.

You were so considerate to transition from World News Now to America This Morning subtly throughout the night as it provided a reference point as to how late (or early) I was awoken. It would help me determine if it was worth trying to get back to sleep after each feeding. And as feedings grew fewer and further between, I would start to miss you.

And then the inevitable would come. I would awake at dawn in a panic because there had been no crying at night and my local news anchors would be there to greet me instead of you. Melancholy would set in as I would know that our relationship was coming to an end. I would miss you dearly...but not as much as a full night's sleep.

But this week, we've had an unexpected rendezvous as my 18 month old was up with a fever for several hours several nights in a row. I sat in the same spot where I first fell in love with you, comforting my daughter and rocking her to sleep. And there you were comforting me, keeping me company during the wee hours of the morning. I fondly reminisced about the "old times" we had together.

I have missed you dearly, old friend. We had a great run. I know we will meet again someday...fever, flu, or insomnia will draw us together. I will smile at the memories we've shared and I will wish you the best, but I will not allow our relationship to continue. I love you but I love sleep more. So for now (and hopefully for a long, long time), I say goodbye.

The Circle of Life

I vividly remember the first time I ran over an animal. It was about a week after I got married and came to live on the farm. I was backing out of our garage to get the quad out. I hadn't even felt a thing but when I walked back into our garage Duke, our young cat, was writhing on the ground. Now, I would not call myself an animal lover by any means, but Duke was an orphan kitten we felt sorry for and ended up taking in.

Although I'm not an animal lover, I am not heartless. I felt overwhelming grief for this poor little creature and even more guilt for being the one who caused his death. He died quickly (Thank God!) and I immediately called my husband sobbing. "I killed Duke!" I choked out.

"Accidents like that happen on the farm. You're going to have to get used to it."

I was so angry at my husband for being so blase and heartless about it. When he got home from work I was still upset with him. He was a little astonished I was taking it so hard since Duke and I were friendly at best. His comment was, "I know you're upset you ran over him but he could have died another way like by climbing up into the engine of the skid loader or something." WHAT?!?! That happens?!?!

A couple of weeks later, a friend hit our puppy when pulling into the driveway. Our friend felt terrible and I was irrational. "How are we ever going to be able to have children and keep them alive if we can't even keep animals alive around here?!?!" My husband's response, "Umm, first that's crazy. And second, this is a farm. Things are born. Things die. It's the circle of life."

It took me a few years to understand his attitude. And I don't think you ever really understand it unless you live on a farm for a while. Loss of life is common on the farm, especially a farm devoted to breeding and birthing cows and sheep. I still grieve when a ewe loses a lamb after a rough night in rough weather or a litter of kittens doesn't survive the sometimes harsh realities of the farm. But you come to expect this will happen at times.

And on the other hand, raising animals allows you to experience the miracle of life. It truly is a remarkable experience to watch an animal being born on the farm. From the first glimpse of hooves, to watching the mom lick her new calf, to that calf taking its first steps, you cannot help but be humbled by the marvel of a new being coming into the world.

Snuggling up with one of the babies
born on the farm.

Even more amazing is when you have a hand in delivering a baby. When my husband and I were dating (and I was stilling trying to prove I might make a good farmwife) I donned a plastic glove up to my armpit. My husband instructed me step by step as I reached in, found some lamb hooves and helped pull a new life into the world. It's difficult to describe that giddy feeling you have at being a part of something so incredible.

I have been able to witness many births on the farm and feel fortunate my children have been able to have that experience as well. Watching a cow give birth prompted lots of questions from our children. How did the baby get in there? Do all animals have babies that way? Is that how you're going to have your baby, Mommy? Hmmm...let me think of how to answer that in an appropriate way for a 4-year-old.

My son's first time out
watching a calf being born.

Some of their questions were a little unexpected but living on the farm has actually given us a great way to have discussions about life, death, and everything in between. Subjects that aren't always the most comfortable to talk about can be discussed in a more matter of fact manner when you have real life subjects to use as comparisons.

And although it's not necessarily easy for our children to lose a beloved barn cat or a favorite spring lamb, they seem to understand and can come to terms with the fact that every animal has it's time to live, no matter how short or long that time is. I'm hoping the unique experience of living on a farm gives my children an exceptional and healthy perspective on life and death. I hope their experiences of losing animals will help them in some small way deal with the loss of a loved one when the time comes. And I hope they will realize what a wonderful gift it is to live on a farm where they get to experience the miracle of life all the time.

Exerting Some Independence

Strapped into her stroller...
where she should be!

I made a grave mistake last night. I let my 18 month old get out of the cart. I didn't want to do it but it became a safety issue really. Really, I swear! Even though she was strapped into the front seat, she somehow wiggled until her legs were out of the holes and she was on her knees facing the back of the cart. I had tried several times to get her back into the proper position but was met by screaming and wrestling and me sweating.

Hmmm...do I continue through Target with a screaming toddler or do I let her out and chase her all over the store? Neither option sounded very appealing but I had had enough acoustic raucous yesterday to last me for a year. I just wanted her to stop screaming.

So our adventure began. Initially she did very well following along. Then she got brave and decided to venture a ways from the cart. A couple of times I had to chase her down the aisle. All the time my older two kids are yelling her name to get her to come back.

And I'm pulling out all the stops to keep her within a 2-foot radius of the cart while I'm trying to make sure we are getting all groceries on the list in the most efficient way so we cover the least amount of area as possible.

"Why don't you help Mommy push the cart?" That lasted about 2 seconds before a baby in another cart caught her eye and she started following them.

Exerting her independence at the
Children's Museum.

"Here, put this in the cart for Mommy." Good idea but she was physically incapable of lifting most of what we needed and was not tall enough to get it over the edge of the cart. When her older sister would try to help she'd scream, "No!" and turn away from her.

"Do you want a ride?" That just elicited a shake of her head and little feet darting away.

I apologize to the other customers who experienced our madness last night. Some were amused by the little girl in the pink tutu marching (yes, she was literally marching around like she owned the place) through the store. We got a few comments such as "How cute!" and "She's adorable!" which were very nice...if they only knew how ornery she could be. And it was so sweet to watch her an elderly man keep stride for about 15 feet while she peered up at him and he smile down at her.

Others, I'm sure, were completely annoyed by us...by my children and me calling every few feet for her to come back, by an 18 month old darting out from aisles and almost getting hit by their carts, by us taking up whole aisles because an 18 month old doesn't really understand the right side rule. (But then again, most adults don't seem to know how to stay on the right side at the store either.) I'd hurriedly grab her and apologize all the while thinking to myself, we've got to foster her independence at some point, right? I know she may have been a bit of an inconvenience to others but she's learning some vital skills. She's learning some boundaries like how far she can get from Mommy in a big space before Mommy freaks out and grabs her. She's learning how to follow directions and then choosing which ones she actually wants to follow. She's learning how to follow a leader and then deciding that sometimes it's just better to be the leader.

My baby girl who is growing up
way too fast!

Well, I did get myself into that mess. It was not necessarily the most enjoyable shopping trip I've ever had and we could have been out of the store at least 20 minutes sooner if she would have just stayed in her seat but it was kind of fun (maybe fun's not the best word...interesting?) to see how her little personality expressed itself during our shopping trip.

Really it was just another reminder of how quickly she's growing up. She's saying new words, doing new tricks, and exerting her independence even more every day. Someday she'll walk through the whole store herself and I won't once have to tell her to come back and stay close. And I will think back to that crazy, first night she walked around Target on her own and miss it dearly.