I’m not going to ever be qualified to teach parenting classes. At the rate things are going I may be more qualified to become a MMA referee. I used to tease my sister about her house full of children and threaten to put their bad report cards on a t-shirt that read, “Good job, Parent!” I could be critical because I wasn’t even sure if I wanted children, I vacillated with the idea for over 3 decades. And now that I have a terrible two and a flippant five and they are NOTHING like the parenting books I’ve read!

Having kids is still weird to me, like who said I was adult enough to reproduce the me that I barely even like. But that’s not who kids are, they are the you from the beginning- the one you couldn’t stand. I remember thinking that it was all a nightmare. When my oldest was born I would stare at her in the moonlight. She had plump round cheeks, a pouted perfect mouth and coiled curly hair. I would just watch her. I was waiting for her to pop her eyes open like Chucky and say, I’m nobody’s baby! before she pulled out her little dagger from her sleeper. Fortunately, she never did. But I looked for it, because having a baby just couldn’t be real.

Then the baby grew up with the attitude of a teenager in a cute grade school kid body. She even managed to double herself into a second child. And if her magic wasn’t enough, she’s the kid in all the memes that cries for 30 minutes because her socks have a place for the heel. So what does a professional, educated, mature mother do? I yell, I scream, I make silly faces, I threaten, I offer safe space, I barter, I beg, I cry, I apologize, I roll eyes, I pray, I give ultimatums and I’ve cussed. The combination of these prized accomplishments will never land me in the Mommy Hall of Fame. I don’t do these because I wasn’t sure about having kids. I do them because parenting is the hardest crap I’ve ever done in my whole entire life. The patience, focus, lack of sleep, and more patience required to listen to irrational people throw themselves on the ground because their paper unfolded, with no wanton for their tiny bodies is hard for me. To listen to crying and whining can be annoying but the meltdowns that end in bodies scrawled across the welcome mat at Kohl’s is mentally bankrupting. I said it. The little people that look like me drive me to want 30 Catholic communions, during COVID, with the real wine, and the nasty cup that everyone sips after the priest wipes it with the same cloth.

Some women love staying at home with their children creating fun projects and sending updated pictures of sweet events. I kick myself for viewing family vacations as work. More power to the parents that travel abroad with their kids but I can barely take mine to the state line without someone having a fever or poop explosion. I find myself being the mom that sees it’s 20 minutes until carpool line and I’m pushing it until I couldn’t make it on time if my SUV could fly. Because those last sweet moments of silence before I pick them up and the fighting begins is almost orgasmic.

The kids aren’t all bad. They are smart, healthy, cute and funny. Based on evidence of dare devil climbing, the little one will be able to complete mountain expeditions and the big one will be able to tell people what they are doing wrong with their lives. They will have meaningful careers- these girls have skills. I’m proud of them. I know I’m crazy but I don’t think they will need THAT much therapy once it’s all said and done.

I’m mindful to tell them that I love them… very much, and more than I ever thought I could love anyone else. I’m grateful for their willingness to help, their compassion towards strangers and their forgiveness of me. I’m whole heartedly a better person because we have one another. I’m honest with them. I put myself on timeout. They see me praise them. They see me pray for help. They hear me ask them how I can help them through this anguish. They hear me cheer them on. They see me “go on break” and hide from them with Twizzlers. And more importantly, they hear me say that they will do the great things God has purposed for them. They know they are unconditionally loved by God and even their worst atrocities couldn’t stop my devotion to them. I taught the oldest to read like a 7yo and the little one how to make a sandwich. I won’t say my work here is done, but I will say my work as a Mom has been gravely impactful. After marriage, my friends and family said to have some kids- it will fill your life. It was the strangest and best thing I’ve ever done that fulfilled my life- and drove me crazy.