She’s growing and maturing. My selfish girl who is usually, always only thinking of her 13 year old self is thinking of us all. She knows having the elves brings joy to our entire family. She understand that I’m really trying and I want this experience for them, even if it is coming late. She knows her momma is working extra hard to develop a legacy that will help children for generations. She knows I’m burning the candle at both ends. She knows that I have more on my plate than I can handle. She knows that some things will go undone as a result.
Usually the things that go undone are laundry and home cooked meals, but right now the elves seem to be the thing I couldn’t maintain. Somehow, she understands the significance of the elves to our family; even if she doesn’t quite understand what it means to me to have her help me in this way.
As moms, we sometimes beat ourselves up for being distracted and disconnected. We question our impact and influence as mothers when our children are rude, selfish or inconsiderate. We beat ourselves up for not being enough for our children… for not doing enough or giving them enough. This whole situation reminded me that I am enough at all times— even when I am distracted, disconnected and forgetful.
See, food and cooking is how I say, “I love you.” It’s how I say, “I’m glad you’re here.” Honestly, it’s one of the reasons I have such difficulty managing the goals for my health and fitness, but I digress. We can chat about that another day.
Off I went to the store the day before the party.
On my way to the store I decided the menu would include baked ziti and a tossed salad with yummy add-ins like gorgonzola cheese, green apples, craisins and such. I grabbed ground and linked Italian sausage. I quickly remembered several of my guests don’t eat pork. No worries! I’ll just grab some ground beef and more ingredients. Now, I have to make two sauces, but I got this. I headed to check out.
Oh crap!!! One of my guests can longer eat tomato anything. Side note: I grew up in a house that was always entertaining. My parents taught me that you make people feel welcomed by considering them in your choices. In other words, make sure there’s something for everyone. I decided to grab some chicken breasts and veggies to make chicken alfredo pasta too. I finished shopping. I had about 20lbs of meat, a full cart and a fully overwhelmed heart.
Parenting is hard. I’ve said it in the past. I’m saying it now. And I’m pretty confident I’ll say it many times in the future. Parenting. Is. Hard. Everyone talks about baby showers, beautiful birth stories and funny toddler tales, but no one is discussing, flatly, the difficulty associated with raising children. Why can’t we stop using our children as a measurement of how much better we are than other mothers? Why don’t we all just admit we don’t know what the hell we’re doing and meet at Chili’s for $5 margaritas to discuss strategies and support each other???
Do I ground him for this? How many fruit snacks is too many? Should she be friends with that girl? Why won’t he stop lying? At what age should they date? How many wipes should I use before I give him a bath? How much fast food is too much fast food? Why am I more uncomfortable watching love scenes than violence with them? Is cookie dough really bad for them?
At the present moment I am feeling a little anxious about choices we are making for our children and choices they are making for themselves. This isn’t a positive or negative admission. It’s just me standing in my truth.
Growing up Black is a be seen and not heard kind of existence. In my experience, to find a Black child with the authority to fully BE, in the presence of adults is the exception; not the rule. Control, rules, excellence and respectability are major components of the Black child rearing experience. Black children need to grow up with their shit together. This didn’t happen in a vacuum. It’s a direct result of slavery, Jim Crow, the Civil Rights Era and a post racial America *side eye*. The privilege of speaking about anything at anytime was snatched from us and whipped out of us on slave ships, auction blocks, in the fields and in the big house.
Saying the “wrong” thing or being at the “wrong” place at that time could get an adult or even a child, literally killed— It still can. We have too many examples. Being seen and not heard is not a simplified way to parent; it’s a safety mechanism. Part of the Black experience is simply trying to keep your children alive in a way that it isn’t true for other races. The same is true of how we are steered towards career choices. Careers that are perceived as frivolous, i.e. dancer, artist or musician are not routinely supported.
This isn’t the land of make believe and you don’t have the ability to see through walls or leap over buildings in a single bound no matter what your children, spouse, or other people in your life think. I know. I know. The idea of being able to do anything at any time sounds fascinating and productive. Other people believing you can do anything, at any time, regardless of circumstances makes you feel important and needed. Look at how proud they are of me doing everything under the sun. Look at your chest all puffed up with the “S” stamp. You can’t get enough of the accolades. You feel amped. You feel invincible. Thing is…. You’re not.
You are not invincible.
You cannot do anything at any time regardless of circumstance. You know who can? God. You, my friend, are not God. I can tell you who you will be if you keep this charade up though. Resentful. Yep. Resentful. And who wants to wear resentment as a badge of honor?
I have worked in corporate America. I have worked in inner city classrooms of Chicago. Being a SAHM is still without question the hardest work I have ever done. This is in part because being a parent is more difficult than anyone lets on. My understanding of parenthood was incomplete… at times I think it still is. Being a stay at home mom is a 24/7 endeavor. From the time I wake up until I close my eyes, I am meeting the needs of someone who is not me.
Please don’t consider this a declaration of my unhappiness or complaint. On the contrary, being a stay at home mom is a gift. But it requires compartmentalization and understanding. There have been many days in this social political climate that I was grateful I didn’t have to go to work. Hell, sometimes I don’t even go to the grocery store because I don’t want to see the world. So, I know I would dread going to the office.
This isn’t complaining. This is me, sharing pertinent information. Also… listen carefully, I am not ignoring or minimizing the plight of working mothers. Most of them do what I do while working outside the home full time. For me, what I noticed and miss most was the drive to and from work. You know? Those small periods of time when I was alone to make uninterrupted phone calls or listen to music that is inappropriate for children who can talk. #JudgeYourOwnSelf
It is our job to combat misogyny, toxic masculinity, predatory behavior and rape culture by educating and empowering children. Talk to them about predatory behavior and grooming. Tell them, age appropriately, what these creeps say and do… Wait. Obviously, parental discretion should be used, but nothing predators do or say is age appropriate.
Tell your children the truth.
Tell your them what predators say and how they manipulate.
And for God’s sake stop insisting your kids hug and kiss everybody. What if I told you— YOU are grooming your own child for predators. You are the biggest obstacle to your child’s understanding that permission to touch their body can only be given by them.
It is irresponsible to do all the housework in a home full of able bodied individuals. Put your mini-me’s to work. They need to understand what it takes for everything in the house to GO! I don’t know about y’all, but there isn’t a magic fairy that puts away groceries and washes dishes at my house. So... my children do it🤷🏽♀️😂.
I love my lil babies. There are few things that bring me greater joy than their happiness, but their happiness cannot come at the expense of me. The happiness of your children is not more important that you. So, while we work hard to provide them with a particular lifestyle; they need to understand that it is their shared responsibility to help maintain it… all of it.
Having a calendar for children teaches them responsibility and time management. If you get off the bus at 4 o'clock and dance begins at 5 o'clock, you know you have less than one hour to get a snack and start your homework or decompress. If it's time to go and they didn't get a snack that’s on them. They will quickly learn how to consider the calendar and their available time.
Perfection lacks flexibility. It forces us to BE without movement or allowances. What happens when you stretch a rubber band that has no elasticity? It breaks... And so will you. Perfection is also an animal birthed from the expectations of others. Which is a major reason that it is unattainable.
This is a journey that parents and children often take. It can be a tough lesson for every one to receive, understand and accept. Especially fathers, who regularly get a bad rap for being too tough, too hard and too emotionally removed. Children, remember that your fathers are there. Sometimes, unequipped to say what needs to be said in a way that you can hear, but still wrought with the desire to see you in the midst of the fog. Make sure that your hand is outstretched so that you can find each other through it all.
Fast hard truth. Our kids don’t need to be friends in order for us to be friends. Step further: I really don’t even need to see your child for us to be friends. Like we can share stories about our children… We can talk about their grades… How much we love them…. How they get on our nerves… We can even go shopping for them together. And we can leave it right there.
