This parenting thing is HARD

When you become a parent, everyone will  tell you how hard the first few months are going to be.  It's a struggle to go without sleep; to get on a routine; sometimes to even nurse can be a chore.  What they don't mention is that those seemingly endless months, are the easy part of the journey.  You may feel like it's the end of the world because your boob is on fire or you've changed the millionth explosive diaper that day, but it's not.  The world keeps turning & eventually you get more than 2 hours of sleep at time.  And that innocent baby that alternated between screaming like a spawn of Satan and sleeping peacefully like an angel will grow up.  They grow up into teenagers and you will be begging for those nights when the best solution was to swaddle, nurse & rock them back to sleep.


I've been lucky to be blessed with 3 great kids.   My oldest IS a teenager and has a mouth on him, but he's also MY kid.  If he wasn't a little sarcastic, I would probably go check the hospital records to see if they switched him at birth.   I also know that he's testing his limits right now.  He's pushing boundaries to see what he can get away with.    He makes great grades, involved in sports, helps around the house and is great with his siblings.. most of the time.  They all have their moments, but in the grand scheme of things I get how lucky I am.  They are all 3 healthy, happy kids.    But then something happens and it makes me want to kill one of them.  Namely my first born.  The one who is testing his limits.

Last week, he had one of his close friends spend the night.  These 2 are just alike.  They've been friends since 3rd grade, shared classes since then, have the same name & even share a birthday.  Two peas in a pod.  For real.   Anyway, the night in question everyone had gone to bed but myself & N.  He was sleeping on the couch so  the other 2 would stop picking on him.  I'm busy playing on the computer when I heard something from upstairs.  I wasn't quite sure what it was so I muted TV & waited half way up the stairs to see what I could hear. 

The boys had prank called a girl they knew & she was on speaker phone.  They were talking in (badly) disguised voices trying to get the girl to guess who they were.  She was getting understandably annoyed when clear as day, I heard my child drop the F Bomb.  I thought I was going to have a heart attack.  I opened the door & marched him downstairs.   He kept looking at the floor like he was going to die of embarrassment.  He tried to say it wasn't him and that he didn't say it, but I cut him off.  I told him that they were being too loud and i heard every word that was said.  I also warned that if anything else happened that night I would be calling the other mom to pick up her kid right then.  And that we would discuss it in the morning, but I needed some time to cool off.

He's still trying to deny it (can't blame him for trying), but he's grounded from video games and his cell phone until further notice.  I haven't decided when he's going to get the privileges back. 

The worst thing.  I feel like a huge hypocrite.  Granted, I don't use that language in front of my kids.  I've also tried really hard to keep other adults from using it around them. There are some that I can't censor, but those are the ones I limit their contact with.    With all that said, that doesn't mean I don't use those words b/c I do.  And I'm pretty sure I used them when I was his age.   But  I never used them loud enough to be heard by my parents. 

We've sat him down & attempted to explain that there is a time and place.  He might think that using those words will make him look cool to his friends, but it really only shows his small vocabulary.    One of our good friends (god bless him) added to the discussion.  He told my son that he should actually be thankful that his parents care enough to teach him what he should & shouldn't say.  If we didn't care, then he would eventually lose his filter (we have a friend like that who was used in this example).  He didn't want to be THAT guy that no one invites places because you never know what he' going to say. 

So..  I would much rather be able to wrap him in a blanket & snuggle to make it all better than actually be his PARENT.  I'm hoping the talks we've had will sink in.  It seems to be.   Why does it have to be so hard to raise a positive, productive member of society?