The toughest job you’ll ever love?

To say it has been a challenging week to be a parent in our house is like saying it costs a few bucks to fill the gas tank in our Suburban. My brain aches and my body is exhausted from all the THOUGHT and EFFORT I have had to direct towards molding and shaping my children’s lives. With a parent-child ratio of 2:3, it means one kid is not always getting the full attention of one of us. As a result, we are sometimes spread so thin it hurts. A little taste of our week (only the first three days’ worth):

• Oldest Son has been behaving in a way not typical of him, possibly influenced by new pals in middle school. We’ve also had notes from his teachers saying he’s not behaving or paying attention in class, and not handing in homework. When confronted, he has kicked into self-preservation mode (and who wouldn’t?), which he apparently has yet to learn will always lead to more serious consequences than ‘fessing up the first time. He is now on house arrest, and keeps complaining that the ankle bracelet is too tight.

• Middle son procrastinated in completing a long-term project, then hastily threw it together, from memory, because he “misplaced” the assignment sheet, only to learn once it was completed that it was destined for a low grade due to not having followed all the requirements. I had to convince him to choose between how he would feel if he had an opportunity to re-do it for a better grade, or not re-doing it and getting a lower grade. He sequestered himself to “think about it,” then, 10 minutes before bedtime, tearfully admitted that he rather would re-do it. He felt good once he saw how much better the second version looked, but seriously, it’s like pulling teeth sometimes!

• In the midst of all that drama, the three year old was being, well, a three year old, and that means that often, Mom has no right answers. And? He’s irrationally demanding. He wants JUICE and he wants it NOW! DROP WHATEVER YOU’RE DOING NOW MOMMY AND GET ME SOME #$%^& JUICE!!! If kids could swear, you know just when they’d drop an F-bomb.

Everyone says having babies is hard. Everyone is wrong. Having babies is easy. You feed ‘em, they poop, you change ‘em, they nap, they wake up and giggle and coo and you play with them, and, as you diligently log each precious milestone in their baby book and snap more photos than you could ever possibly frame, you look at each other and say, could any baby possibly be any cuter than this baby of ours? But friends, here is what they really should tell you as you’re leaving the hospital with your 8-pound bundle of joy: It’s when they get older that parenting becomes a mental exercise, and if you lack stamina, it will wear your ass down. You have to reason with them, explain WHY no means no, why you selected that particular punishment, why it’s in their best interest to re-do homework that, in their mind, is already done. You must explain the subtle difference between being a bad boy, and being a good boy who does a bad thing. You have to guide them through new territory, land mines that, if stepped on, may explode and cause permanent damage. You must figure out ways to make them take ownership of the decisions they make. You can never let them see a breech in Fort Mommy, lest they charge forth and penetrate your defenses, revealing your inconsistencies. You will feel like a killjoy at least 75% of the time, more or less. But, while you’re killing their joy, you must make them understand that you love them no matter what, and help them to learn that this, too, shall pass.

And, as you’re running your mental marathon, you will remember daily what it felt like to be a kid, and how your parents molded and shaped you into the adult and parent you are today. With the gift of hindsight, you can remember the seminal moments, where their parenting left a Big Impact. You can also regard the whole journey and think about patterns and trends. You can see that much of how they approached parenting was great, and you can remember, vividly, the times when you thought to yourself, I swear when I’m a parent I am never doing this to my own kids. But, you will draw on your own parents’ example repeatedly, as you continue the challenging work of raising your own kids.

All this is not to say that I don’t love being a mom. I do. I don’t have words to express the depth and breadth of the love I feel for my kids. Even as I crave quiet and tidiness, I miss them like crazy when they’re not here. I know that one day, when they’re grown, and I can see them making good choices and succeeding in Life, I will feel pride in them and relief that I didn’t totally screw them up when they were young. I can only hope that one day my boys will look back and appreciate what their dad and I experienced in raising them, and that they will know that, despite everything, we did the very best we could.