Parenting truths...

Hi. My name is Katy and I thinking parenting is hard. 

Y'all. It is so stinking hard. And for the record, I'm a little pissed that no one told me. (Yeah, I'm looking at all of you that kept that a secret). Don't get me wrong - its the best job in the world - you are surrounded by people you love and that love you. You get to laugh and play and be silly. You get to make them happy with their favorite meal, or a surprise toy or just a new thing of stickers from the dollar spot at Target. 

 There is nothing in the world as sweet as a sleeping baby, fresh from a bath, in a deep milk coma laying swaddled in your arms. 

Except for rocking a 2 year old to sleep. 

Or hearing your 6 year old read for the first time.

Or the sounds of a 4 year olds feet shuffling down the hallway because she's scared and wants to cuddle. 

But.

Parenting is hard. Really hard. I screw it up like every single day at least. I'm always wondering if I did the right thing, said the right thing, etc... In the matter of a few minutes, I can doubt about 110% of my parenting choices. I worry. I let the devil get the best of me and I worry and worry and worry. About the silliest thinks like... Did we throw them a good enough birthday party? Did we pick the right school? Do we have a good routine? Do we have too much of a routine? Am I too strict? Or maybe not strict enough? Should they watch that movie? Should they drink soda? Or eat fried food? Do they have enough educational toys? Do they have too many toys? What about... what if... 

You get the point. 

I hope.

These are really silly things to "worry" about. But I do, constantly. I let social media dictate my worth as a parent much too often. I let the 10% of people's lives be the measuring stick for how well I am doing. I am completely jealous of my mom raising us "way back when" life was simple. (Although it was probably the same thing, I just didn't realize it.) 

I am tired and grumpy and miss time to myself. 

And if that wasn't enough, we all have our weak spots. 

My temper gets the best of me. I lose patience. I yell. I cry. I yell again. I say I'm sorry. And then, my kids move on. They accept me, they love me, they forgive me - so freely and without question. They continue to be such a shining example of grace and goodness. 

Every now and then, Radley will come up with a punishment. A couple of weeks ago, he was having a morning, which meant I was having a morning and my lack of patience and Sicilian temper got the best of me. And I yelled. And it wasn't nice... I even called him a name or said something equally as mean and a child. And once I calmed down and he calmed down, he looked at me and said, "Mom...I think you need to write sentences." (That's our punishment of choice around here). 

And so I did. I asked him how many and what he wanted them to say... 

And once I was done, he moved on. I moved on. 

And our day gets better. We continue to play blocks or ninjas or dress up. We read books. We cook together while music is playing. All three kids huddle around the kitchen counter helping us chop and stir. We play outside. We watch movies. We dream. We pray out loud. 

And then I think, maybe parenting isn't so hard after all.