On the most delightful days, I skillfully fend off imaginary creatures. I can easily persuade my kids that our house is adorned with enchanted Monster-proof paint or that the Monster is merely a petite being donning a tutu while serenading us with “Puff the Magic Dragon.”
On the challenging days, I find myself exasperated and raising my voice as my child bounds upstairs for the fiftieth time. “Just go to bed already!” is the last thing they hear from me before drifting off to sleep.
On the brighter days, everyone is well-groomed, myself included. The kids are clean, smelling delightful, with neatly clipped nails and properly styled hair—faces devoid of any remnants of food or mysterious brown smudges.
On the tougher days, they resemble little untamed creatures. I catch a glimpse of myself in the evening mirror while brushing my teeth, often startled by my appearance.
On the good days, I make a point to connect with them. I set aside my device, kneel down to their level, and treasure their sweet voices calling out, “Mama, look!”
On the less favorable days, I find myself saying, “Oh my goodness, please stop singing that song before I jump out the window!”
On the positive days, I can watch patiently as my child makes yet another attempt to put on their favorite, albeit stained, t-shirt the right way. I don’t interfere at all.
On the difficult days, I wrestle them into the clothes I deem appropriate. Tears flow, with their blotchy faces clashing against their well-coordinated outfits.
On the pleasant days, I serve as the storyteller of our family history. I remind them of times when, at seven, they seemed unable to sit at the dinner table or when, at two, they exclaimed, “Holy Shit!” after using the potty.
On the harder days, I find myself rushing around, repeatedly saying, “Hurry up!” as I focus on my to-do list, often overlooking their needs.
On the bright days, I consciously ignore the chaos—clothes strewn about, dishes piled high, and bills awaiting attention. I ask, “Shall we go for a walk outside?” Their excited responses make me regret not focusing on these moments more often.
On the stressful days, I let life’s pressures seep in, and I tap into that intimidating mom voice I didn’t even know I possessed.
On the good days, when tears accompany homework struggles, I gently set the work aside and offer a comforting hug because sometimes that’s what matters most.
On the challenging days, I ramble on in frustration until even I lose track of my own words, reminding myself once again why homeschooling isn’t for me.
On the best days, I take a hefty dose of “Chill Out.” I embrace relaxation and realize that life isn’t always as serious as it seems.
On the tougher days, I push for control over everything, only to falter and feel defeated, wondering why it always ends up this way.
On the joyful days, I sit down and read to them, going on until they signal they’re ready to stop. We create piles of books alongside the chair, and they look up at me with hope, asking, “One more?”
On the difficult days, I feel like I don’t have a single moment to spare to read with them.
On the best days, I silently wish, “Please remember this.” Yet on the worst, I find myself hoping they’ll forget.
For more insights and stories that resonate with the ups and downs of parenting, feel free to check out our other blog posts at Home Insemination Kit. Additionally, for those interested in learning about home insemination, Make a Mom provides a comprehensive guide. For a deeper dive into pregnancy and IVF, News Medical is an excellent resource.
In summary, parenting is a blend of memorable highs and challenging lows, where moments of joy and frustration coexist. Embracing both can lead to cherished memories and growth for both parents and children alike.