It’s easy to let your children consume your life. Actually, you know, that’s not really an accurate thing to say. What I really mean it that it’s easy to let your life go, and I don’t mean this in a Christian, sacrificial way. What I mean is that it’s easy to settle, to let the grueling work of raising children cause you to want nothing more out of life than a king-size package of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups and an episode of Law and Order.
I do understand that level of exhaustion, though. I’m just coming off a year of really, really hard work. I gained lots of weight and lost more flexibility than I thought I had left. So, I have a really good sense of why collapse is central to a parent’s life. I’ve been there and discovered how horrible it is.
What I’ve been thinking about lately, both consciously and unconsciously, is how absolutely terrible this kind of response is for the kids. Oh, it’s absolutely terrible for the grown ups, that’s obvious. But what’s worse, I’ve decided, is that a collapsed parent who has been completely dulled by daily life can offer nothing more to a child than an episode of Law and Order and a peanut butter cup.
Parents who are no longer dreaming or building or trying to better themselves show a kid that being an adult is a drag.
After the birth of Ike, our second child, I could really feel the inertia mounting. Couch potato-ness was on its way, and I had the tracking number. My wife and I both felt it, knew that we were going to become the kind of people we used to always observe with a certain degree of horror. The fatness and lethargy was the least concern
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Well okay, I’m usually up for a challenge; it’s the competitive nature in me I suppose. Last night while eating some fish tacos on the front steps of my duplex some neighbors walked by. After receiving their positive reinforcement for the nasty note I had left for the paper carrier (that
It must be the way the planets are aligned right now — we have also had lots of dragging.
We have felt that scary, impending monotony after a killer year, and we don’t even have children yet.
This weekend we are attending the Cuming County Fair. I am going in order to relive some childhood and for the pure joy of watching Jens’ delight as he discovers one of the greatest parts of summer in Middle America.
We brought back our evil American cable box (which we had only 1 month) and have spent more time after the yarwork sitting on the front steps at dusk eating bing cherries or drinking Coronas. Our neighbors walking by always have a kind comment about my geraniums or some much-needed lawn advice.
At the risk of sounding really shallow, the thing that’s making me feel really happy right now is watching the first season of The Muppet Show on DVD. It might be a temporary high, but I’ll take it.
The simple joys of late 70′s, early 80′s television, crafted by Jim Henson. It really doesn’t get much better.
You shouldn’t be ashamed, man. You should watch the Muppet Show forever. You know, for a time, Ray Charles was the musical director for that show.
Now, I’m really jonesing for some Gonzo.
Oh, hey, no shame. I am the most vocal fan of The Muppet Show that I know. It just seemed shallow to be happy from a TV show.
However, taking a moment to look up at the stars every now and again is just amazing.
I’ve been spending a lot of time surfing the web at work (um, I mean, um, nevermind) and I’ve stumbled into HUNDREDS of blogs of young sewing/knitting/bookmaking/printing/quilting/cloth diapering mothers. They’re doing this stuff and documenting it and raising children all at the same time. Plus they’re doing it very well.
I was starting to feel quite isolated as a mother in my 20s who likes to sew, knit, make books, quilt, and cloth diaper. It’s made me really happy to see how many other people are doing these things and making it work. Maybe they don’t live here in my neighborhood but at least they are out there somewhere.
I just got some help from a master quilter so I’ll finish a 30-year-old re-quilting project, which is a 75+ year-old quilt of my Grandma Clare’s.
Now, that’s some kind of inertia to overcome. Makes me proud.
Joan, you should be proud. That’s going to be one fine quilt when it’s finished.