I’m a little sick of this today, being a parent. I’m a little sick of half sleeping in the morning and I’m a little sick of cereal as soon as we come down the stairs. I feel tired of coffee and Elmo, and trying to change a poopy diaper while my daughter acts like I’m stabbing her. I’m a little sick of my toddler not eating lunch only to request cookies. I’m a little sick of the fact that I give him the cookies.
I hope this is normal, being a little sick of it. Most days I very much enjoy being a father. I love my children. I can get lost in them. But today…today I’m a little sick of getting lost. I haven’t checked out, if you were wondering. I’m sure that I’m not being the best father right now. But both children are being cared and loved for. There was an incident with toilet paper earlier, other than that though, they’re being good kids. They seem to be enjoying life. Trucks and dolls, paper and crayons, a floor size plush lobster that they love to roll on. They love it all. They seem to even be enjoying me today. That’s good.
I’m tired of the weekly routine. Maybe that’s what it is: Not the parenting, the routine. Then again, maybe I’m shooting from the hip, hoping I’m not turning into the type of parent that I hate. You’ve seen them. The fathers who wear a sullen expression on their face. You know what they’re thinking without even asking them. “I could have been more, I should have done more.” I don’t understand this. I’ve never seen kids as a barrier. What in the world can’t you do? You can’t sit at home and drink beer all day, no. But anything else is possible.
No, that’s not me, I don’t resent my kids, my wife or my life.
Today, I’m just a little sick of it.
Just a little bit.