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They Call Me The Gatekeeper
Parenting can be a wild ride. It twists and turns, often leading you down a path you never expected. Just when you think you’ve figured it out, it slips through your fingers like sand. It can leave you feeling overwhelmed and wishing for a reset button. I’ve been a parent for 12 years now, and I’ve come to know it as the tricky little creature that it is.
When I envision the kind of parent I want to be, I picture a scene out of a heartwarming film. You know, something like a classic with a loving family gathered around a table, sharing laughter and joy. But let’s be real—my dinner table resembles more of a chaotic scene from a comedy than a sentimental movie. It’s loud, messy, and filled with kids making silly noises and debating the quality of my cooking. Comments like, “This meatloaf is gross,” and “When’s Dad home? He’s way more fun than you,” echo around the table. And yes, that last complaint about math? Totally mine.
You remember that part in Bridesmaids when one character talks about her sons? Well, we’re almost there, and I might be in denial about it. The cute baby smells have vanished, replaced by the not-so-pleasant scents of pre-teen boys. The smell in my house now? Let’s just say it’s not the baby powder I once cherished. Sneakers at the door could probably win a prize for the worst odor, and showers seem to take an eternity. When I sort through the laundry, searching for those ridiculously expensive socks that are so popular among middle school boys, I often find washcloths that have seen better days. And let’s not even talk about the shower situation—let’s just say I’m not convinced shampoo is a priority.
I find myself saying things I never thought I would, like, “It’s not okay to be naked with the cat,” or “Please take your nose out of your brother’s backside; trust me, you’ll smell that fart soon enough.” And then there’s the classic, “Dancing on the breakfast table is fun, but swinging your jewels around like that is probably not appropriate. Also, keep that away from my smoothie!”
Do you recall The Cosby Show? Heathcliff Huxtable had that famous line about bringing kids into the world and taking them out. Now, I finally get it—and it’s about time. Parenting doesn’t come with a script; it’s just you and your kids, navigating the unpredictable. Last week, I found myself sitting across from my son Alex and saying things I never imagined would leave my mouth.
“Listen up,” I said, my finger pointing at him like a wand of authority. “You’re acting like a colossal jerk, and if you don’t fix that attitude now, when your dad gets home, he will JACK you.” Wait, what does that even mean? But I was on a roll, and there was no stopping me. “Look at me,” I continued. “I’m the Gatekeeper. Everything that happens in this house goes through me. If you don’t change your attitude, I can and will take away all your fun. Trust me, I control it all.”
In all my visions of motherhood inspired by glamorous movies, I never pictured myself cursing at my son or channeling a character from an old film. I guess I’ve become a little more like the Gatekeeper than I ever intended.
As we navigate this new phase of parenting, I can’t help but feel a bit anxious. We haven’t even tackled driving or the dreaded teen years yet. One thing’s for sure: parenting is tough, and it’s nothing like the movies. Because here I am, just a girl, standing in front of my four boys, asking them to aim when they pee.
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