Planned Parenting
I always knew I wanted to be a mother someday. I was not a girl who ran around borrowing babies, or playing with young kids. I did not even enjoy babysitting much. And yet all my plans for my future revolved around my intention to have children of my own someday. Naturally I intended to be a good mother. Even in my teen years I was watching parents and either deciding I should do the same, or thinking though how I would handle it differently. Not all the time, of course, I was a normal teen, far more focused on peers than on parenting. But I was beginning to define the kind of parent I wanted to be. I exited my teen years with the feeling that I wanted to be one of the “cool” parents. I wanted to be a parent who remembered what it was like to be a child. I wanted to be a parent who would play with her kids. I wanted to be the mom who could still do cartwheels.
I’m now more than 13 years into this parenting gig. It has been years since I’ve done a cartwheel. I am not the parent I pictured myself being. This is in part because my teenage view of parenting was romanticized and unrealistic. I pictured charming, well-behaved children. I pictured joyful picnics in the park. I pictured family vacations to exciting places. I pictured myself as Maria Von Trapp from The Sound of Music. I never once pictured vomit or snot. I never pictured a red-faced child ready to scream, kick, and bite because there were no more crackers. I never pictured myself 8 months pregnant trying to catch a naked, giggling toddler who was intent on never wearing clothes again. Reality was not exactly a shock. Part of me was expecting reality to be different. But reality was far more mundane and real I could have imagined before I was a parent.
After years of viewing parenting from the other side of the fence, I now understand why so many parents stop doing cartwheels. Yes there is the sheer physical factor of aging joints and probable weight gain, but there is more than that. Parents have learned the vitally important skill of energy conservation. Children and teens will run full-tilt until they physically collapse. I can’t afford to do that. If I use up my energy and cheerfulness doing cartwheels on the back lawn, then there will be none left to make sure that bedtime runs smoothly. If I sit and give my full attention to every stream of childhood babble, dinner would never get cooked. I’m not always a “cool” parent in the way I’d envisioned as a teen because I can’t be and still be doing my job.
That said, some parents take it too far. They spend all of their time and energy on being responsible, making sure bedtimes happen, making sure money is earned, making sure homework is done, making sure groceries are bought, and meals are cooked, and chores are done. These parents are over-worked, over-stressed, and over-whelmed. They’ve forgotten how important it is to take time to play. I’ve been such a parent all too often lately. I know I have because when my kids see me dancing to music in the kitchen, they are surprised. It shows in other things too, small comments that the kids drop which tell me that they consider it normal for a mother to spend hours holed up in her office asking to be left alone. Part of that is a result of all of us being home all day all summer long. Part of it is a symptom of the scrambling that Howard and I have done this last year to put out merchandise. Part of it is because of the hectic convention schedule during the past 9 months. But no matter what good excuses I have, the reality is that my kids consider mom playing to be a rare event. I need to fix that.
This next year should be slower. Howard will be at home far more and our focus will be here. Yes, we’re planning to crank out books, but with the kids in school, I can do most of my work while they’re gone. This leaves the after school hours available for me to focus on the kids and to play more often. And maybe I’ll even take up cartwheeling again.