Let me be frank: I’m probably messing up my kids for life. And you know what? I’ve come to terms with that. It’s not that I want to ruin them; it’s just that, well, it feels like a part of the parenting journey. I think it’s safe to say that every parent has their own unique ways of screwing things up, and I’m no exception. (Except for my Aunt Linda. If you’re reading this, this isn’t about you. And yes, I meant it when I said that.)
I’m aware of my shortcomings, and I’ve accepted them. At this point, instead of opening a college savings account, I might just start a therapy fund for my kids and call it a day.
Take my youngest, for example. He’s had formula—yeah, that’s right, straight from the “Devil’s Tits.” Sure, it might have been a lifesaver, but let’s be real, it’s still formula.
Then there’s the TV situation. Both of my kids watch it. I won’t get into specifics, because some will say it’s not that much, while others will gasp in horror. Let’s just say my eldest can often be found singing catchy jingles from Daniel Tiger, and I have a feeling those tunes are going to haunt us for years to come.
I’ve read all the articles warning against excessive screen time, and I’m completely on board with the findings. But when it comes down to it, I’ve been known to strap my kids into their high chairs, pop on Daniel Tiger, and sneak away for a shower. At least it’s PBS, right?
Now let’s discuss veggies. I was all set to be that parent who does everything right. I read the books, followed the guidelines about eating healthy during pregnancy and nursing, and planned to introduce a variety of pureed vegetables. Fast forward to now—my kids’ last encounter with real vegetables was probably pumpkin pie at Thanksgiving. Oh wait, no, they just ate the crust.
Foreign languages? Not in this house. Unless you count the kind of French I picked up in college—or the not-so-appropriate phrases from the back of the school bus. My boys are currently obsessed with anything that moves, so if you hear them yelling “Truck!” or “Ship!” that’s where it’s coming from.
I’ve clicked through countless articles titled “You’re Parenting Wrong,” and while I know it’s just clickbait, I can’t help but dive into the latest research on how I’m failing as a parent. Between working and staying at home, I’ve managed to give my kids the unique experience of being both neglected and smothered. Sorry, kiddos!
It’s not that I don’t want to improve. I read those well-meaning parenting articles (often while my kids are around) and mentally note all the ways I’m falling short. Then I try to implement changes—maybe for 20 minutes. I genuinely want my kids to watch less TV, eat more vegetables, and grow into well-adjusted little prodigies, but I just can’t seem to get it right. And despite the guilt, I haven’t yet invested in any educational toys made from organic kale.
But if these are the things that will “ruin” my children for life, then I’m alright with that. We all make mistakes, and I hope this is the worst I ever do. When my kids come to me in 20 years, lamenting how their lives were ruined, I’d like to think it’s because they watched too many episodes of Daniel Tiger and still can’t shake the “When You Have to Go Potty, Stop and Go Right Away!” song from their minds.
They can complain about the numerous ways I’ve messed up along the way, and I’m sure there will be even more as they grow older—that’s just how it goes. I may not nail every parenting detail, but one thing I excel at is loving them fiercely. They are my everything.
So if a little too much TV and not enough veggies are the worst I’m doing, then so be it. They will always know they are loved. And if letting go of some of that worry gives me a little more room in my heart to love them, then that’s the path I’ll choose every time.
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In summary
It’s okay to mess up as a parent. We all have our shortcomings, whether it’s letting our kids watch too much TV or not pushing enough veggies. What matters is that we love them fiercely, and that love will outweigh the little mistakes we make along the way.
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