I have decided that I may need to change my original intent for this blog, as many of the thoughts and feelings I've felt tempted to share are not the sort of things I want my sons to read someday. Perhaps I'll need to create a separate "kid-friendly" version for them.
While taking a walk a few weeks ago (a glorious, guilt-free, hour-long walk with no concerns about what was happening at home because summer was over and my boys were back with their dad), I had an uncomfortable epiphany: I am one of those people who doesn't want to grow up. Now, I don't mean I want to be a teen again--although having my 20s back knowing what I know now about my own talents and sexuality would be nice, but that's another post. No, I realized that I don't like being responsible for anyone else.
I should have known this about myself. I've always been a bit of an introvert, and I never was a joiner. Being part of a club or committee means having to follow someone else's schedule and possibly having others depend on me. How could I not have realized being a parent would be a million times worse? In the words of my step-daughters, I am an epic fail at establishing and keeping to any routine. In the summer, if the kids don't remind me, I will forget to make lunch. My oldest suffers from chronic constipation and needs to consume 16 grams of fiber every day. This is important, and he is just now reaching an age where he can take more responsibility for his diet, but we'll still get to the end of a day and I'll realize I haven't kept track of his intake or made enough dishes to meet his needs.
As much as I love my boys--I love hearing the silly jokes they make up, playing catch in the park, watching them dance, beating B. at cards--I also love the fact that I am not a full-time parent, at least not the kind of hyper-involved parent that seems to be in vogue today. Their step-mom is much better at this. She stays at home, meets them at the bus after school (a whole 1/2 block away and visible from the front window of the house) and has dinner on the table at 5:30 every night (I know this because she commented that the boys know it is their job to set the table and shouldn't have to be reminded since dinner is always at the same time).
When the kids are here in the summer, I feel like I have to be that kind of mom, which just leaves me incredibly stressed and anxiously awaiting the fall. Although, as I think about it, their step-mom stresses them out too. I'm sure it is tough for them to go from one extreme of parenting to the other, but when they are parents themselves, I hope they will realize that one does not have to live for one's children. My parents didn't, some of the parents I respect the most don't, and I'm starting to forgive myself for living my life for me.
