Still Angsty 18 Months Later
It’s time for my Retro Weekend Blog to get you through until Monday. Try and keep your excitement to yourself. Just try.
This is from August 2010. That sounds so long ago. That’s still my favorite picture.
Who Needs Some Angst?
This is my favorite picture.
I was 41 weeks pregnant and climbed up on my daughter’s bunk bed to read her a bedtime story. Things were simpler then. I didn’t have an overzealous need to ask her what’s wrong every 5 minutes. And my middle daughter was asleep quietly on the bottom bunk and not a moody 7th grader. Awww, a simpler time.
What happened to that? Why can’t I go back to that? And would I really want to? I was 8 days past my due date and three days from delivering my third daughter in the most painful birth ever recorded in history. I certainly wouldn’t want to relive that. I was living with a monkey in a two bedroom triplex with no air conditioning and did I tell you I was 8 days past my due date? My mom and stepdad came up early so as not to miss my LAST birth, but they ended up staring at me for 11 days until I finally popped. Do you remember I said it was a two bedroom with no air conditioning? They made me be the running end of the kite every day at the park. I have pictures of that, but they’re not pretty.
Everything is so much more complicated now and it’s just getting harder. I had a friend tell me that she thinks the angst that kids and their parents go through in high school is just to make it easier when they leave. If they like me all through high school then they’ll never move out. And I’ll be so sick of them by their senior year that I’ll be happy to move them to college myself. I’m sure I’ll do that anyway, but I don’t want it to be on bad terms. I can see how some parents have a problem blurring the line between being their friend and their parent. Being their friend would be so much easier, being their parent is really hard.
I keep telling Kasey that I’m not letting her do some things because I love her too much, but trying to explain that to a 12-year-old is quite a bit more complicated. If I were her friend I wouldn’t care what she wears, I wouldn’t care who she hangs out with, and I’d let her walk to 7-11 every day by herself. But as her parent I do care what she wears, I want to know her friends, and she has no business roaming the neighborhood alone. The only thing that I pray is that one day she’ll realize that it’s only because I love her that I’m so protective. I did (finally), but it took a while.
Final thoughts from Christy: If you don’t know me personally, you may think by just reading my blogs that there’s something wrong with my kids. Like I have the only moody children on the whole planet. But I have good kids, really good kids, and that’s all with the help of God because I can’t do it alone.
I just really love those little suckers and I’m praying that they become productive members of society, and if one of them can cure cancer that would be fine too. My only wish is that sometimes they liked me more. You want to be my friend?