People Who Still Have Blogs:

  • Me


August, 2018
July, 2018
December, 2017
September, 2017
August, 2017
May, 2017
March, 2017
December, 2016
November, 2016
August, 2016
July, 2016
April, 2016
January, 2016
December, 2015
November, 2015
October, 2015
June, 2015
May, 2015
April, 2015
February, 2015
January, 2015
December, 2014
September, 2014
August, 2014
July, 2014
June, 2014
May, 2014
April, 2014
March, 2014
February, 2014
January, 2014
December, 2013
November, 2013
October, 2013
September, 2013
August, 2013
July, 2013
June, 2013
May, 2013
November, 2012
October, 2012
September, 2012
August, 2012
July, 2012
June, 2012
March, 2012
February, 2012
January, 2012
December, 2011
November, 2011
September, 2011
August, 2011
July, 2011
June, 2011
May, 2011
April, 2011
March, 2011
February, 2011
January, 2011
December, 2010
November, 2010
October, 2010
September, 2010
August, 2010
June, 2010
May, 2010
March, 2010
February, 2010
January, 2010
November, 2009
October, 2009
September, 2009
August, 2009
July, 2009
June, 2009
May, 2009
April, 2009
March, 2009
February, 2009
January, 2009
December, 2008
November, 2008
October, 2008
September, 2008
August, 2008
July, 2008
June, 2008
May, 2008
April, 2008
March, 2008
February, 2008
January, 2008
December, 2007
November, 2007
October, 2007
September, 2007
August, 2007
July, 2007
June, 2007
May, 2007
April, 2007
March, 2007
February, 2007
January, 2007
November, 2006
October, 2006
September, 2006
August, 2006
July, 2006
June, 2006
May, 2006
April, 2006
March, 2006
February, 2006
January, 2006
November, 2005
October, 2005
September, 2005
August, 2005
July, 2005
June, 2005
March, 2005
January, 2005
December, 2004
November, 2004
August, 2004
July, 2004
June, 2004
May, 2004
April, 2004
March, 2004
February, 2004
January, 2004
December, 2003
November, 2003
October, 2003
September, 2003
August, 2003
July, 2003
May, 2003
April, 2003
March, 2003
February, 2003
January, 2003
December, 2002

Valid XHTML 1.0 Transitional
Valid CSS

I, Parent, I

Rereading some of previous posts about parenthood are a bit like admiring the shafts of light from bullet holes in an old tin shack, in that they are more indicative of where I was blindly firing at the time rather than the accuracy of what they hit.

I erased many posts, at the time I told myself because they weren't interesting, but deeper down, because I knew they were wrong.

It took me awhile but I think I finally found the issue I was searching for me, in the last place humans look, ourselves.

Specifically, that in a whole bunch of ways, I'm a child myself.

My past posts both glorify how I hang onto the perspective of youth, and warn against the pitfalls of telling kids that their adolescence is the "best time of their lives".

Whenever I act like a child, I always tell myself I'm doing it as a joke, I'm being ironically petulant or inappropriately immature with a wink. Quoth the Vonnegut "We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be."

In a lot of ways these vestiges of proto-me are very useful in parenting. They allow me to create games on the spot that the children enjoy, they often provide insight into ending otherwise insolvable impasses of will that often pop up.

In many, many ways, it gets in the way. Older children get bored playing with younger children. They want to play Risk, not Candyland. They view the world in a myopic lens with a focus on things to feel sorry for themselves about. Likely 80% of my problem as a parent is just me selfishly moping about how I have to interact with my wonderful children rather than play video games.

Ugly, I know.

But just having figured it out is a relief. Having the perspective on it to realize that I can't really properly parent while I can't even parent myself. That the problem is between post-children me and the present me and no-one else defines a much saner playing field.

Now when I hear the lamenting of not playing video games in my head, I can ascribe it the proper tone of a teenager without perspective on life rather than some great existential lament (Ugh, I'm so lame).

Looking back it seems so obvious that I can't believe I let something so base and trite get in the way of enjoying two fun and exciting children.

Now, don't take this as me saying I'm going to grow up or cease being anything other than a fully professional adult. We all know that isn't happening.

There is a bible quote about thinking as a child and thinking as a man, and while one translation says "doing away with childish things", several others phrase it as "put away childish things".

I'm going to go with the latter. Presumably in a tupperware tub somewhere, so that my children can't break them and I can easily locate them to bring out and play with when they are put to bed for the night.