Took a broken nose to set me straight.

In the age of constant introspection, "Where did I go wrong?" seems to be a popular question. Hell, I haven't even grown a kid to school age yet and I'm already asking myself that, especially when he is vehemently refusing any sustenance besides chicken nuggets or is trying to pee on his sister during bathtime. I sob into my delicious salvation beer and try to figure out where I got off the path of awesomeness and onto the path of terrible indiscretion that will undoubtedly ruin my precious child[ren]. Was it that time I turned up the radio so I didn't hear him wailing from his car seat? Was it because I watched Law & Order: SVU ad naseum while I nursed him as a newborn? Was it because I forgot to take my prenatal vitamins every day? Nobody can second-guess details like a Mom & I think I was given a double dose of that specific neurosis.


I'd spend half my Mommying time wishing for some quiet, alone time and then the moment The Yankee freed me to go take nap or Facebook in peace, I'd swell up with guilt at all the things I was doing "wrong". I'd berate myself for wanting to nap instead of playing yet another game of "tickle the toddler without getting kicked in the face". I was making myself miserable, imagining a life of traveling carnivals & "How did that make you feel?" for them. Then it hit me...my son's melon of a head, a direct shot to my nose. It HURT and I cursed, loudly & in the presence of my children. After I could form a thought that was longer than four-letters, I realized something so obvious it was painful (or was that my nose?). HE IS 3!


I can no more banish him to a lifetime of carnival work than I can assure him a position in the West Wing of The White House. Worrying over every parenting decision at this point, is akin to doing the post game wrap-up after kick-off. I can talk the play to death, but I'm still no closer to knowing the final outcome! So, to follow the analogy, I had to learn to shut [my brain] up & enjoy the game. Doing so allowed me to be much more present and to actually, gasp, enjoy my time with them instead of analyzing every behavior, response and sentence for a sign that I was doing something wrong. I'm certainly not one to tell you how to parent (especially because I don't need the responsibility of screwing up your kids AND mine), but I do think moms should cut themselves a few more breaks. The job is tough enough with all the pressure from the outside, try not to add your own weight to the pile. But if I could give you one piece of advice, try not to get head butted in the nose, because it hurts like hell and you probably don't want your kid to learn "f*ck" from you.