Other People's Children

Mostly, I am pretty content. But there are times when I get an eyeful of the greener grass on the other side of the fence and wham! a jolt of envy courses through me. Usually when I am discontented, it's more of a sly what if....  that slides around the perimeter of my consciousness whispering, "Wouldn't it be nice to have her knack for interior decorating. And her budget to pull it off?"  "Wonder what it's like to wake up looking like her every morning - she doesn't even try and she's 10 times more gorgeous than the rest of us." "Wow, now THAT'S a career!"  And usually I can brush that aside, chalk it up to human nature, and carry on as normal.

 But sometimes, the discontent takes an unspeakably hideous form. So shameful, in fact, that collectively as a society we have silently made an oath that we would not ever admit such things. Sometimes, we are discontent about....our children.

Yes, I love my children more than any others and I think probably in my deepest, darkest heart cave exists a belief that they are the best children in the world. That being said, the what if... has slid around the perimeter of my consciousness and whispered things that stop my heart cold and I worry that I must be a terrible person. For example:

*What if you had a kid who just loved to go to school and never ever cried or fought in the morning or complained about clothes.  What if your kid was like that Facebook friend's kid who runs around gleefully shouting "I love school! Is it time for school yet? I am all ready and I made my lunch and brushed my teeth and combed my hair and picked out an outfit and wore it and didn't throw any clothes in the hamper in the process that weren't dirty and I walked the dog and did all the dishes from breakfast and put something in the crockpot for dinner! Oh look - we're going to be 10 minutes early this morning!" ?

or

What if your kid actually went to bed with no hassles? What if you didn't have to play a bizarro version of Let's Make A Deal every single night?What would that be like - putting a kid to bed and being confident that they'll stay there and sweetly fall asleep?"

or

What if your kids actually picked up after themselves (with or without threats and punishments, it matters not if the stuff actually gets picked up). What if you taught your kids the definition of 'half-assed' as in, "You kids always do a half-assed job on the chores I pay you $5 to 'do' when I could do them myself for free and they would actually be done."?

In one of those contented moments I was making a fun dinner when I actually had time, sipping a cocktail, and listening to "All Things Considered" (I do not desire to defend liberal public radio, nerdiness, or insobriety here), and heard a statistic about most people feeling more depressed after spending time reading other people's posts on social media sites. One girl interviewed complained that everyone's life looks like a movie: posting pics of gourmet meals with large groups of friends, vacation pictures taken in amazing places, photos of oneself taken only in the most glamorous of moments. I thought to myself that really, its in our nature to covet, and social media just gives us a faster conduit to depression brought on by comparing ourselves.  My friend Cathy and I were joking the other day that we're going to start posting random, everyday life moments as a social experiment; a selfie - holding up a bunch of bananas captioned, "Shopping at Aldi, bananas 19 cents a pound!" 

A picture of Cath and I in Manhattan, heading to 5th Avenue to shop. Social experiments are not as fun as flaunting your supercool trip.

 I write this not to protest Facebook or Twitter or all women's gathering since the beginning of time; support and connection and good things happen in those arenas too. I write this because it breaks my heart that we live being eaten alive by our guilty feelings we bury deep inside and let fester there. When I post on Facebook you see how fun and smart my kids are, which yes, my kids are fun and smart and I think they're fabulous and want you to think so too, but you don't see that they are being driven to ulcers by the mean girls. If I post such things on Facebook it obviously creates other problems, namely for the children I love, but my point is that 99% of my audience who I don't have much other contact with sees only that. We make a habit in daily life of showing each other our best sides and inwardly fret, not so much that our children have fallen short, because truthfully I don't think that's what we're afraid of. Our real fear, I suspect, is that we have fallen short and our children are paying the price for it.  The what if... we have tried to mute is the one that asks, "What if I have failed them? What if they won't be able to make it out there because I made them be (lazy, neurotic - fill in the blank)?"

This is my first and only shot at bringing up each of my kiddos just like everyone else. Other people's kids....they're subject to their parent's shortcomings as well as their own too. That makes us all in the same boat.  Which to my thinking makes taking parenting swipes at each other at soccer games or Bible studies akin to suicide attempts. Not to mention that in a complete negative feedback way, my children end up feeling pressure they otherwise wouldn't. I am a big believer in lessening pressure on kids. Though I fear that this ends up looking more like one of my "little believies!" If you are ok with thoroughly raunchy comedy and are unfamiliar with the "believies" reference, click here" (I do not desire to defend abnormality, strange sense of humor, or gratuitous cursing here).

 Here is a picture of my littlest angel on the long car trip this Christmas. The underlying truth: This moment made possible by Dramamine (the kid's - the dog really does sleep all the time).


*Examples used are very exaggerated for artistic purposes and are not intended to represent any real life characters, no matter how striking the resemblance.