I’ve not been blogging, nor writing much for About.com at all lately. Bean is still going through some sort of bizarre insomnia, and I’ve had it on and off for awhile. My cats are acting totally freakish, and I’m working both jobs right now. Very tiring. Haven’t even been watching the news or keeping up with current trends, aside from “Best Week Ever” and “The Soup” (if such passes for one’s version of culture, of course). After 14 hours of “Lost” yesterday and an interminable marathon of “Law and Order” on Sunday, I can safely say television holds little allure right now.
We had a fun cookout on Sunday, just the four of us. Am actually thinking of selling my house to Matt and moving in with Shoova and Moro to Shoova’s old house. That will be interesting, if it happens. They had roommates lined-up to move with them, but plans fell through — and either they move to that house or they move out of state.
I’m not ready for that. Heh. Well, really – I’m not. Looking at them laying in the yard on Sunday, I tried imagining her living far away, and felt such pain inside. We’re finally at a good stage in our relationship: not living together, more on an equal playing field, understanding one another’s views better. Her moving will change all that. It really is the mom who can’t cut the cord, apparently.
Being a parent is hard…and you think it ends when they are 18 or 19 or, you know, engaged to be married. But it really doesn’t end there. Or, as far as I can tell, anywhere. And there’s nothing like being the parent of a teenager to bring you face to face with your failings as a human being, from the small (you don’t do this or that) to the large (remember when you said…you did….you thought). You are never quite good enough each day in myriad ways and there are never enough hours in a day to get everything done. Nor will you get everything done right.
The first time you’re ever viewed as having been a raging success is when your grandkids start getting older. Armed with the knowledge of just how tough and thankless parenting can be, suddenly your kids get it when they have kids of their own. Gone are the vows of their being a better, magical, perfect parent, replaced by a surprised voice telling you they can’t believe you managed all that work on so little time and money.
That’s what I recall, and probably the collective experience of many older parents. Everything looks easy from the outside. Only when you experience firsthand all the hours, minutes and days that make up being a parent do you truly come to understand how tough it can be.
My parents were 45 and 40 when they got me. Hard to imagine, me having the energy to have another child at this stage — but then, they hadn’t spent the last 20 years raising two kids. Instead, they vacationed and built a business. Which is better? To me, being a young parent was amazing, but scary. Older parents, more mellow, settled financially and every other way, might do a better job, but they’re tired more easily. And then there’s the aspect of getting old when your child is still young…
Either way, it’s a lot harder than people without kids realize, and you spend a lot of time second-guessing yourself, worrying the this or that you didn’t do is going to result in long visits on someone’s couch. Your kids visits, or your own.
Still, if I had it to do all over, I’d do it all over again. Hopefully much better, and with more money.
