Ordinary people, it's okay/ You don't have to wear those wings
I do not have any solid, scientifically valid evidence to establish that the world is heading in the general direction of a mysterious accessory known as Helena's handbasket. Overall, things are probably no better or worse than usual. However, amongst my friends, there is an avalanche of bad news and some to spare. Illness, divorce, random yet potentially fatal injuries, those I know and love are doing it all.
I'm not sure how most of my blogging friends are travelling, apart from a couple who are clearly having a stinkful time lately, and many more who join me in being uninspired and/or a bit grumpy, but it seems that the blogosphere has been a bit short on celebrations lately.
For me, the last few weeks can be adequately summed up by a phone conversation with my lovely sister-in-law, who will probably be unimpressed if she ever finds out that I have decided her nickname should be "Herbs".
It went like this:
Herbs: Hi there, how are you?
INC: Pretty good. How are you?
Herbs: I'm good too
INC: That's great
*beat*
Herbs: Are we lying? I know I am
INC: Yes. So am I.
There is nothing particularly terrible going on in my life. I am concerned about some health issues that are not mine, which I won't be blogging about because they are not mine. My job is stressful and not particularly fun, mortgage payments are hard to keep up with, and I would sell at least two non-essential organs for a week where I get to sleep for at least seven uninterrupted hours per night, but compared to nearly everyone I know, I'm having an easy time of it.
So, I'm not entirely sure what my problem is, but I think if it was expressed mathmatically it might look something like:
Exhaustion + stress + adorable but challenging children = grumpiness
The real problem is that when this grumpiness ends up pointing in the general direction of the children, I forget that they are really very young and that they are allowed to have a bad day or two here and there, and I hold unrealistic expectations that they will behave wonderfully all the time just because they do it most of the time, and so I end up getting unreasonably cross and then hating myself for it.
Something that contributes to all this is that up until four years ago my career choices were based on the idea of finding jobs where I could actually feel like I was doing something positive in the world. With the impending arrival of little people, it was economically necessary to find what we like to call in the trade 'a real job'. So, now I earn, quite literally, twice as much money as I used to but that's really all that gets achieved.
I can put up with the nine hours of 'this is stupid' per day if the rest of the time is spent with my fantastic family and I can even perhaps think that maybe I'm not so bad at the whole parenting thing. But when the grumpiness equation takes effect, I find myself wondering if I've ever been good at anything at all, ever. I start to have some difficulty in remembering why I care, and I realise that some days I have only the vaguest idea of who I am. I also wonder how old I have to get before I feel like I have some idea what I am doing instead of just making it up and hoping people are fooled.
It's possible that I have been subconsciously projecting this mood onto my blog, given that my last 7 posts have covered emoing, ceasing to emo, lolcats, Frances O'Connor, courage, basketball, dried fruit, a band I saw last year, and now whatever the hell this post is. I'm not sure I ever knew what this blog was about, but if I did then I have clearly forgotten.
Multiply that sentiment by about one million and that's how I've been feeling about my life lately.
So.
Time to take a deep breath.
In.
Out.
That's better.
I need to remember that there are nights when I walk in the door and two small crazy people come running into the hallway and do their best to actually knock me off my feet as they grab me and yell "Daddy's hoooooooome", and that these are really, really good nights.
It's also time to take the advice that I freely dispense to others whether they have asked for it or not and accept that I'm just an ordinary person. I don't have to be perfect at everything and I get to fail from time to time without the world actually ending. The wearing of wings is best left to some surprisingly musclebound young lady at 6.30pm each Sunday. As for me, I do not have to wear them, because Angie Hart has already explained that they are Stupid Things, and she's right.
I'm not sure that this will help. I suck at taking advice, especially my own, but I'm hoping that posting this here will serve as a much needed reminder. And maybe, just maybe, I can climb back out of this spiral of confusion and self loathing and reach the point where I can possibly start to think that I have regained the ability to get it right, at least some of the time.
I have to get this right. The fate of the world doesn't depend on it, but there are two little people who need a good daddy and I'm their one and only shot at it.
I have to get this right.
I have to get this right.
I'm not sure how most of my blogging friends are travelling, apart from a couple who are clearly having a stinkful time lately, and many more who join me in being uninspired and/or a bit grumpy, but it seems that the blogosphere has been a bit short on celebrations lately.
For me, the last few weeks can be adequately summed up by a phone conversation with my lovely sister-in-law, who will probably be unimpressed if she ever finds out that I have decided her nickname should be "Herbs".
It went like this:
Herbs: Hi there, how are you?
INC: Pretty good. How are you?
Herbs: I'm good too
INC: That's great
*beat*
Herbs: Are we lying? I know I am
INC: Yes. So am I.
There is nothing particularly terrible going on in my life. I am concerned about some health issues that are not mine, which I won't be blogging about because they are not mine. My job is stressful and not particularly fun, mortgage payments are hard to keep up with, and I would sell at least two non-essential organs for a week where I get to sleep for at least seven uninterrupted hours per night, but compared to nearly everyone I know, I'm having an easy time of it.
So, I'm not entirely sure what my problem is, but I think if it was expressed mathmatically it might look something like:
Exhaustion + stress + adorable but challenging children = grumpiness
The real problem is that when this grumpiness ends up pointing in the general direction of the children, I forget that they are really very young and that they are allowed to have a bad day or two here and there, and I hold unrealistic expectations that they will behave wonderfully all the time just because they do it most of the time, and so I end up getting unreasonably cross and then hating myself for it.
Something that contributes to all this is that up until four years ago my career choices were based on the idea of finding jobs where I could actually feel like I was doing something positive in the world. With the impending arrival of little people, it was economically necessary to find what we like to call in the trade 'a real job'. So, now I earn, quite literally, twice as much money as I used to but that's really all that gets achieved.
I can put up with the nine hours of 'this is stupid' per day if the rest of the time is spent with my fantastic family and I can even perhaps think that maybe I'm not so bad at the whole parenting thing. But when the grumpiness equation takes effect, I find myself wondering if I've ever been good at anything at all, ever. I start to have some difficulty in remembering why I care, and I realise that some days I have only the vaguest idea of who I am. I also wonder how old I have to get before I feel like I have some idea what I am doing instead of just making it up and hoping people are fooled.
It's possible that I have been subconsciously projecting this mood onto my blog, given that my last 7 posts have covered emoing, ceasing to emo, lolcats, Frances O'Connor, courage, basketball, dried fruit, a band I saw last year, and now whatever the hell this post is. I'm not sure I ever knew what this blog was about, but if I did then I have clearly forgotten.
Multiply that sentiment by about one million and that's how I've been feeling about my life lately.
So.
Time to take a deep breath.
In.
Out.
That's better.
I need to remember that there are nights when I walk in the door and two small crazy people come running into the hallway and do their best to actually knock me off my feet as they grab me and yell "Daddy's hoooooooome", and that these are really, really good nights.
It's also time to take the advice that I freely dispense to others whether they have asked for it or not and accept that I'm just an ordinary person. I don't have to be perfect at everything and I get to fail from time to time without the world actually ending. The wearing of wings is best left to some surprisingly musclebound young lady at 6.30pm each Sunday. As for me, I do not have to wear them, because Angie Hart has already explained that they are Stupid Things, and she's right.
I'm not sure that this will help. I suck at taking advice, especially my own, but I'm hoping that posting this here will serve as a much needed reminder. And maybe, just maybe, I can climb back out of this spiral of confusion and self loathing and reach the point where I can possibly start to think that I have regained the ability to get it right, at least some of the time.
I have to get this right. The fate of the world doesn't depend on it, but there are two little people who need a good daddy and I'm their one and only shot at it.
I have to get this right.
I have to get this right.
posted by I'm not Craig at 8:24 PM
6 Comments:
My bet, is that you are getting it right.
You read my blog, and
blogs where I've commented on this stuff, so I won't bang on about how intimately acquainted I am with the grumpiness equation, coz you know. But the financial stress in particular is a bugger to put out of mind, and accounts for a lot of the sleep deprivation I find.
But these days I'm choosing to believe that kids are resilient little blighters, and that so long as overall their lives are full of love and emotional security, that they will manage to weather this grumpy patch with us.
dearest inc, i also believe you are getting it right. simply the fact that you are agonising over it so much means that you are getting it right. but getting it right doesn't mean being perfect in some sort of never make a mistake way. it means caring, and being aware and trying and never stopping trying to do the right thing. yes, we fail. yes, we can be very very hard on ourselves. but ultimately your two precious little gems will just love you no matter what.
there's a book i can't remember what it's called but it talked about the good enough mother. who is actually a better mother than the perfect mother (who really doesn't exist and is probably quite horrid). the good enough mother - and i reckon you can safely substitute dad for mother - does the best they can, is available but not always, balances parenting with having a sense of identity and own interests etc.
i don't know how old you are but i reckon a lot of people around this age do an awful lot of introverted self-searching - not a bad thing - but just don't be too hard on yourself.
we all get shitty with our nearest and dearest. we all hate ourselves sometimes. but we just have to think i'm ok, you're ok (another of those terrible 80s self help books) and we're all just doing our best.
read desiderata too, for some reminders of what's important in life.
big hugs. and yes - talking/writing helps i think.
thank you for sharing your thoughts, inc. i admire the honesty.
Miz
Thanks, that's very kind of you. I'm feeling a little bit better after having a lovely weekend with the boys. Melbourne has also been providing someone wonderfully inspirational sunsets, which is also guaranteed to help.
Melbs
Thanks for your lovely words, which are as wise as ever. Thanks also for the hugs, which cheer me up endlessly.
I'm just taking it a day at the time for now, enjoying the good ones and trying not to repeat the bad ones. If it all goes to pot again, well, you'll read it here first. Until then, stuff is generally okay.
Noones perfect, INC. But I don't think I've previously encountered a man who so clearly and unabashedly loves and cherishes his children. You could never be a failure at loving them, and surely that's the most important thing! And they will thrive on that love, INC.
Why don't you pack up your Honey Bear and your boys and head for the hills for a few days? Literally. Getting out of the city and just experiencing the quiet rhythms of the natural world does wonders for the soul and the mind.
xxx
Meva
I have no idea what I did to deserve such kind words, butthank you.
I love the head for the hills plan. We've just had a couple of beach type weekends away (one bad, one good) which will be blogged about soonish, so it may be a while until the next weekend away, but we will continue the day trips to Belgrave and thus will we stay sane.
Hope you're well too.
INC,I don't obviously know you very well, but I really feel for you. I have this anguish - I think lots of parents do. Good parents are fallible, and know that they are and after the mistakes or whatever shit life throws at us, we pick ourselves up again and again.
My blogger friends here have shown me that even though I screw up, in the end, my kids still love me and need me more than ever. My mantra these days is one day at a time, the shit will pass. Just the fact that you're aware of this makes you a good parent. And I'm sure your boys think so too. Good luck.
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