I’m fulfilling a job that I never applied for. I’ve been doing it for about 8 ½ years. I had no experience when I started, but no one interviewed me or checked my references. It was an easy job to land but it’s the toughest one I’ve ever had.
The responsibilities are daunting and the hours grueling. On any given day, I might serve as a seamstress, laundress, chef, or chauffer. I’m a counselor, coach, cheerleader and drill sergeant. I have to regulate, respond, mediate and enforce, serve as boundary setter, spy, juror, judge, lifesaver, teacher and tutor … All this before the morning school bell rings.
I’m a parent, of course. And I know I’m not alone in feeling vastly under-qualified for the job.
Kelly Hagen, who writes a column in this space every Friday, will soon be adding “dad” to his list of titles and jobs. I enjoy reading about how he and his “sweet Annette” are preparing for their first child. It’s one of the most magical times in life.
Kelly didn’t apply for this job either, and probably lacks experience like most new parents. I don’t have any advice for him in that regard, but will offer a few reflections.
Parenting is a profession that’s easier to perform from the sidelines. Before I had kids, solving behavior problems in other people’s naughty children was a snap. Temper tantrums, disrespect and outright manipulation were easy to spot and curtail.
But last week, I was momentarily speechless when my own 8-year-old responded to my request with a defiant, “You can’t make me.” The first thought that crossed my mind. “Oh no. Now what do I do? She’s finally realized it -- I can’t make her.”
Parenting demands constant, instantaneous judgment calls. The boys are being sassy, should I give them a break because they are tired or drop the hammer? Are we expecting too much or too little. Am I being consistent or nitpicky? Are we providing supportive guidance or preventing her from learning from a mistake?
Parenting magnifies your own weaknesses and insecurities and provides a fast track to growing up.
As challenging as this can be, it’s not the toughest part about parenting. When I was pregnant with our first child, I remember crying out of fear to my own mom (maybe the hormones had something to do with this).
It wasn’t labor or delivery. I didn’t fear nursing or sleepless nights (although I should have.) What scared me to tears was being so vulnerable -- realizing the potential heartache and pain I was subjecting myself to by having a child.
My instincts were dead on. I was right to fear this and still do. Nothing would be more painful than losing a child to an accident or illness. But my mom quickly placated my fears.
“Well, sure,” she said. “But there is so much more joy.”
I’m grateful she was right. Tiny triumphs bring endless joy to a parent -- watching them successfully snow plow down Huff Hills for the first time, say an unprompted prayer for a hurting grandparent, play a new song on the guitar or sound out a tough word. These are the small treasures that bring endless joy to a parent
It’s a crazy job, filled with heartache and laughter, worry, doubt, and a whole lot of joy. Experience would be helpful, but isn’t necessary -- you’ll get plenty of on the job training.
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