In the shit

At a party recently, a conversation started over the fact that I have three children, which in New York City is equivalent of having at least six children elsewhere. You are a bit of a weirdo when you have three kids, but it does mean I get to dispense parental advice. 

When someone mentioned that they were still on the fence about whether or not to have children, I immediately interjected —. very much like a lunatic — and said “If you have any doubts at all that you want to have children, I highly recommend that you do not have them.” 

That was met with surprise, since that doesn’t seem like the mold of, “Hey you should have kids too because I have kids and everyone should have kids!” that people are used to hearing from parents, many known to evangelize being a parent as though they invented it.

In terms of where I am in my parental journey, I am in the shit. I am still in the midst of really, really hard parenting every day that challenges me in ways I could’ve never imagined. 

I thought that by now — by the time my kids were 10 — that I would have a little bit of a break and the parenting would’ve gotten easier. Now, granted, there are some aspects of parenting that have gotten a lot easier (such as sleeping through the night), but I thought when my children were able to be much more independent and able to do their own thing that I could do my own thing. This has not happened.

My reality is that two of my children have a diagnosis that makes parenting extremely challenging. 

If you had asked me if I could handle all this before I had children I would have said, “No, there is no way I can handle that.” But here I am. Handling it.

As a result of these behavior challenges, we have had to alter a lot about our lives. I am reluctant to plan play dates and struggle to be social, unsure of how the behavior will manifest on any given day. I find myself constantly torn between guilt that I am failing as a parent and resentment— mostly towards myself — for wildly underestimating how difficult parenting is. My dumbass actually thought that since I was a big sister, then babysitter, then nanny in my 20s, that I understood parenting. I did not. 

Of course, it could be much worse. I know that. We haven’t had to institutionalize our children or call the police. Our children are all in a traditional classroom setting. 

But still, it’s easy to fantasize an easier life. I think, “Man if I had neurotypical children this would all be so much easier.” Of course, that kind of thinking is an illusion. Even if I think other parents have it easier, I’m sure they have their own life challenges. I’m very glad to be in a healthy, strong, boring marriage. It’s ideal to love your bunker buddy. 

Suffice to say, almost all I talk about in therapy are these challenges.