We live in an intense world. A world that constantly tells us our lives aren't good enough. We need to do more, buy more, be more. In that world it's hard not to go bat shit crazy when you have a child. As I do. Everyday.
Should I teach him Spanish? Or Japanese? Or Mandarin? Or something else entirely? Does he need to learn how to play chess yet? Music classes? I heard you should make them learn a sport? Tennis, swimming, cricket? Kumon classes, must start Kumon classes. It'll help him with maths. Note to self: Include math in daily life.Wait, he likes to paint, let's start art sessions. What about theater? That could help him express himself better. Violin. Shit wasn't that supposed to start at 3? But doesn't he like guitars better? Buggers, I haven't read to him recently. 2nd note to self: read to him every night.
My son is 3 years old. This is the average set of thoughts that passes through my mind. About 12 times a day. Every day. Then I hyperventilate and stress about what a terrible, inadequate mother I am. How I am stealing my sons chance at perfection. It'll be my fault that I didn't give him the right building blocks for the future.
May be it's because I am a single parent. Or maybe it's all parents. We put so much pressure on ourselves to be the perfect parents. To do everything right. To cover all the bases. We forget that we're still human. Becoming a parent didn't give us super powers. We weren't suddenly blessed with the ability to make the correct decision all the time.
The funny thing is I'm not even the kind of mother who wants her son to be a super achiever. I just want him to use his potential to the fullest and be happy. So every day, about 12 times, I take a few deep breaths and tell myself it's all right. I'll get some things right and I'll screw some things up. My son will be angry with me, tell me he hates me, ask me to leave him the hell alone. But hopefully, most of the time, he'll love me and let me know. If I can just be honest with us both and do my best, we will make it. Together.
I learn everyday that I don't have to be the perfect mother. I just have to be me, crazy, fun, sad and stupid. All of me.
Should I teach him Spanish? Or Japanese? Or Mandarin? Or something else entirely? Does he need to learn how to play chess yet? Music classes? I heard you should make them learn a sport? Tennis, swimming, cricket? Kumon classes, must start Kumon classes. It'll help him with maths. Note to self: Include math in daily life.Wait, he likes to paint, let's start art sessions. What about theater? That could help him express himself better. Violin. Shit wasn't that supposed to start at 3? But doesn't he like guitars better? Buggers, I haven't read to him recently. 2nd note to self: read to him every night.
My son is 3 years old. This is the average set of thoughts that passes through my mind. About 12 times a day. Every day. Then I hyperventilate and stress about what a terrible, inadequate mother I am. How I am stealing my sons chance at perfection. It'll be my fault that I didn't give him the right building blocks for the future.
May be it's because I am a single parent. Or maybe it's all parents. We put so much pressure on ourselves to be the perfect parents. To do everything right. To cover all the bases. We forget that we're still human. Becoming a parent didn't give us super powers. We weren't suddenly blessed with the ability to make the correct decision all the time.
The funny thing is I'm not even the kind of mother who wants her son to be a super achiever. I just want him to use his potential to the fullest and be happy. So every day, about 12 times, I take a few deep breaths and tell myself it's all right. I'll get some things right and I'll screw some things up. My son will be angry with me, tell me he hates me, ask me to leave him the hell alone. But hopefully, most of the time, he'll love me and let me know. If I can just be honest with us both and do my best, we will make it. Together.
I learn everyday that I don't have to be the perfect mother. I just have to be me, crazy, fun, sad and stupid. All of me.
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