Someone told me that parenting wasn’t for wimps. You’d think after almost 28 years of being a parent I’d have a good grasp on the process. But the thing is, parenting is different for each kid. What worked 28 years ago isn’t working today.
When I found out I was going to have a baby after 40 years of age, I was not thrilled. But he has been the best thing that ever happened to me. I found out I was pregnant when I got a kidney stone and need to go to the ER. It was confirmed I was 20 weeks into the 40 week process. I thought I was going through menopause; I so was not. To find myself in the OB doctors office with 20 and 30 somethings was slightly awkward. Good news, old broads having babies are usually healthier and have great statistics at living to be 100.
T is a miracle as are my other two. I have PCOS and having babies with that disease is not easy. Conception aside, T is a miracle for a variety of reasons. Being pregnant with him brought out the best in Jerry. I was reminded of why I fell in love with him in the first place when I was pregnant with T. Jerry and I did not always have the best relationship but Jerry was an awesome dad; although my older boys tell me stories about their evenings with him that give me anxiety. Better to not have known, I think.
T was 4 and a half when his dad died. Adam was just a friend of Stetzon and Lex back then but T had a soft spot for him. T wanted to be anywhere Adam was and Adam allowed it. The day after Jerry died, it was Adam who took T for the day. He’s the one who explained that God needed a rodeo clown and called his Dad home. It was Adam who watched him play with tears running down his face behind his sunglasses so T couldn’t see. It is Adam that makes sure T has adventures only boys can have.
T and Adam have a bond, it’s friendship/parental/hero. It’s really hard to explain. T pushes and pulls Adam daily. Sometimes I’m not sure if I totoally understand the dynamics of their relationship but I know T loves Adam and Adam loves him too.
I was a different mom to my older boys. I had zero patience, and zero tolerance for shenanigans. When stuff got real, it was me who the boys were afraid of. They much rather the school principles called their dad than their mother. When T was born I made a promise to myself that I’d be more tolerant. I may have waffled a little far to the left in being tolerant.
T can be a brat. Because of the trauma he and I shared with Jerry’s death I allow my guilt to rule me sometimes and tolerate behavior I shouldn’t. I’m trying to raise a decent member of society. Today, I’d have to admit he’s a spoiled member of society.
Which brings me back to different styles of parenting.
You can be strict, controlling, lenient, kind, generous. No matter what someone, from your mother in law to the ladies at church are going to have an opinion on your parenting style. So do what works for you and your child. I’m all about living peacefully. As a mom of boys, you can understand how rare that is for me.
I’m more tolerant of kids in the store acting out than I used to be. I saw a dad with a young boy and a baby one day. The little boy wanted to ride in the cart with the baby and the dad wouldn’t allow it. The little boy’s foot got run over by the cart and he started to cry. The dad yelled at the little boy for being in the way. Pick your battles has been one of my mantras for years. In my opinion he would have gotten the shopping done quicker and with less frustration if he would have put the kid in the cart. Less fuss more shopping. But that’s me.
If there is one thing I have learned being a mom to the two different generations I’ve contributed to it is this…kids aren’t kids for very long. You have a short window to make the biggest impact on them. Take care of them, give them life skills, when the time is right stop doing everything for them. That’s not when they are 6 by the way, just saying. Enjoy the journey.
I am not a wimp.