Parenting is bananas.

I feel as if I could have published this blog with the mere title alone. No explanation needed. But it wouldn’t be much of a blog without content, so here I go. Parenting is bananas. On all levels. I have always known it to be true, but it hit me like a ton of bricks the other morning as I was fighting (not arguing…full on fighting) with my daughter to brush her teeth. She’s 10. Brushing teeth to her, in her little 10 year old world, is the equivalent to filling your gas tank up. It’s necessary. We know this. But there are 500 other things I would rather do than pull off the exit, roll up to the pump, turn off my car, and sit there while my car is getting filled up by crap that I don’t really care about, but it’s good for my car and it makes it run. It’s a necessary evil. So the other morning, I ask her if she brushed her teeth. She yells back…”yesssss MOMMMMMMM.” I immediately knew she didn’t. So I ask her again, she gets more vocal, and eventually it escalates to her stomping around and telling me I just don’t understand, I don’t trust her, etc. I never knew that a simple question which involved a child’s general health and wellness would evoke such anger. But I guess I struck a chord. So as I’m arguing with her and well aware that it’s not going to be resolved, I revert to a child myself. I, as a 35 year old woman, ask my daughter to swear on one of her family members to prove that she brushed her teeth. Bam.  Truth came out, I called her on it, she couldn’t swear on her uncle, and her breath smelled. So she walked back into the bathroom, defeated, and brushed her teeth. You can’t play a player.

Parenting is one of the most joyous and rewarding jobs in the whole entire universe. Hands down. But it’s also the weirdest. I have spent the last 10 years of my life lying to my child. I have made her believe that a fairy roams the sky at night and enters our home when she is asleep and picks up her lost tooth and leaves her money under her pillow. She believes with her whole heart that a jolly old man named Santa creeps into our house down our chimney (which we don’t have…so I have to tell her that he uses magic to enter our house) and leaves all of the presents that she has asked him for. From a list that she leaves the night before Christmas. Talk about magic. Then we leave cookies and milk for him and also some carrots for Rudolph and all of the other reindeer.  I have also spent many nights chasing away monsters under the bed using a “secret magical potion” that I spray on the floors in her room and in the closets so they stay away. I buy crazy outfits for her every Halloween and have her dress up in costume and knock on strangers doors and ask them for candy. Oh, and lets not forget about the leprechaun who visits every year to leave footsteps throughout our house and leads her to a pot of gold. Parenting is weird.

OK, lets talk about school. Getting ready for the first day of school is dumb. Fun? Yes. Absolutely. I love taking my daughter shopping to get her “first day of school” outfit. She gets a new haircut, new school supplies, new backpack, new lunchbox…it’s fresh, it’s new, it’s exciting. It’s about a week before school (yes…I wait until the last minute, and sometimes I even wait until the night before) and I look online to see the “LIST”. The dreamy list that the school district pushes through to their website so that parents know what to buy for their child. Loves it. First on the list is pencils. Not just any pencil. It’s specifically a “Dixon Ticonderoga #2 Pencil”. Then you move on to the erasers…and it’s specifically a “Pink Pearl Eraser.” Ok. For reals. I am on a budget, and when asked to provide pencils and erasers…I’m going to buy store brand and whatever is on sale. I’m a rebel at heart, so had you not been specific on the brand, I may have bought the Ticonderoga or the Pearl. But since you (not quite sure who “you” are) told me what to buy….I’m going to go with what I choose to buy. And what I choose to buy? Is the store brand that costs a fraction of the price, because I would rather save my money for the mandated school agendas and suggested cash donations I have to make to her class.  And by the way. It’s not a suggested cash donation. We have to provide it. And we will.

Now, I’m coming at this as a single mom. I’m certainly not wanting to chase away the readers who are married, and I’m not playing the single mom card and saying it’s harder to parent single vs. having a partner. Wait. Yes, I am. It’s harder, #sorrynotsorry. When you are a single parent, and you reach your breaking point, and you realize it’s time to turn yourself into an insane asylum, it’s much more difficult to know that you have to fill out that paperwork on your own. When  you have a partner, at least you have peace of mind that if it does truly get to that point….they can at least drive you there and fill out the paperwork for you. It’s just different. I have been married before, and although I thought I did most of the parenting, I always had the comfort of knowing that he was there. He would probably make me fill out my own paperwork, but he would have at least taken me to the insane asylum. I think.

I feel like we live in a bubble sometimes. I think we all want to depict our lives as something brilliant and perfect and seamless. Like…Leave It to Beaver. If your life is like that show? I applaud you, and I need to know you. I know I’m not the only mom out there who argues with their kid to brush their teeth. I even have my daughter make her own breakfast and lunch in the morning because I have to get ready for work and I’m not supermom. I yell more than I should hug sometimes. I make mistakes. I fall. I pick myself up. And as I’m running out of the house in the morning with 10 different bags filled with after work clothes, and soccer balls and cleats and lunches and everything else, and my daughter grabs a bag from my hand to help me. After we fought like mad about whether or not she brushed her teeth. I realize she really does like me. I’m also kind of glad she still thinks Cupid shoots arrows on Valentines Day and that food just magically appears in the refrigerator once we run out. Childhood is truly magical. And parenting is truly bananas.