Good Parenting is Freaking Hard

You guys, I’m exhausted. We are limping into a new week around here.

Good parenting is freaking hard.

When I posted this throw-away status on Facebook, my friend Laura responded, “This is why I aim for mediocrity in parenting.” Seriously, it’s tempting. This gig is not for the faint of heart.

I’m not going to tell you what happened, or why he deserved punishment, or how I handled it. But I will tell you that it lasted three days, there was weeping and gnashing of teeth, and my children even cried a little bit too.

Just kidding. Little joke there.

Actually, I kept my cool the entire time and only cried quietly in the closet as needed. If all the rockstar parents of the weekend were given baseball hats – and seriously, why weren’t all the rockstar parents of the weekend given baseball hats? – I would sport mine like a champ.

Sometimes you just have to recognize a win and celebrate your sweet little self for it.

Not to overspiritualize things, because I think that’s usually cliche at best, I really learned a lot about God in the process of this weekend’s lockdown. As my child cried and wailed, begging me to change my mind, I said, “I wish I could, buddy. I wish I could say yes.”

“Well, you’re in charge! Why don’t you just say yes??”

A fair question, and one I’ve asked countless times in varying tones.

“Buddy, there are times when I really want God to lift the consequences, and he just simply says no. He loves me, and he chooses to let me feel what I need to feel. I have to let this all play out, and I’m not rescuing anybody.”

In a valiant effort to weigh discipline with grace, I climbed into bed with him one night. I said, “You are so precious to me. Do you know what that means?”

“No, I don’t know what precious means, but I know it’s something special.”

Spot on, my sweet boy.  Spot. On.