The Cynical Mother

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The Cynical Mother – Deanna King

 It is the one thing every parent is told time and time again: “It goes by fast.”

 When you are sleep deprived or cleaning up vomit at 3 a.m. those words are like nails on a chalkboard. I often rolled my eyes, shrugging off  advice to take pause and reflect on each moment with my children.

 I didn’t have time to slow down. I barely had time to shower. I wore the same  flannel shirt so much I could have easily joined the band Nirvana.

Parenthood is the most difficult job you will ever have. So, you’re always looking ahead.

 You look forward to the moment your baby can sit up on his own. You know it will get easier when he can crawl and walk and so on and so forth.  Then, in the blink of an eye your baby is one year away from graduating from high school.

Motherhood was supposed to get easier. It doesn’t.

 During their elementary school years you are in control. If your child is having trouble with another student you meet with the teacher to rectify the situation. You decide who is in their social circle via scheduled play dates.

 Life gets more complicated when they get older. It’s not cool for mom to get involved when you don’t have anyone to sit with at lunch.

 You can’t make someone like your child. You can’t force kids to invite him to a party. You can only offer a shoulder to cry on when his heart is broken for the first time. You also can buy a voodoo doll online. At least, that’s what I’ve heard.

 The hardest part of being a parent isn’t wrestling with a toddler having a tantrum in the supermarket while people stare. It’s not spending hours helping them with Common Core math when you want to scream, “For the love of God, just carry the one!”

 Nor is it being a chauffeur or keeping track of practice schedules for a sport they have no business playing. It’s none of these things.

 It’s having to let go. It’s having to trust that you have raised a good person who will make good choices.

My heart was heavy the first day of kindergarten. I remember that moment my son walked into the building and out of my line of sight.  This year, on the  first day of his senior year of high school, he drove himself.

 As his car turned the corner, I felt that same pang in my chest. Only this time I thought, “It went by so fast.”