Pretend You’re Good At Parenting Through Finals Week
Being a chill parent when kids are stressed is hard. Plus a book update!
Hi, it’s me.
It’s finals week for our two college kiddos, who live at home while attending local universities. Stress levels have been pretty high since mid-November, with a brief, two day hiatus when they allowed themselves to relax on Thanksgiving day and hang with friends the day after. This has upset the delicate ecosystem of our home life.
Ruthie, our oldest and a senior, stopped cleaning the bathroom. Instead, she attends classes or works a six-hour shift at her job then goes straight to the school library to study for another six hours, returning home after I’m already in bed. Thomas, in his second year, spent the summer cooking our family dinners, then began wandering around the house wearing noise-canceling headphones, whispering to himself while flipping through homemade flash cards. Any attempt to communicate with him during this time was met by a murderous stare.
Can you get the Christmas decorations out? I’d ask. They’re stored in a crawl space accessed from his room, which is unfathomably messy at the moment, blocking access to said crawl space.
Later, he’d say.
Later when? I’d press, eager to add some cheer to our little house.
I don’t know! I don’t have time! he’d snap back at me.
Normally, the kids are average to above average in their helpfulness around the house, and I’ve grown accustomed to them sharing the load. It’s a pleasant parenting outcome, actually, when they become more likable and contribute to the household after years of complaining about dry pork chops and writing I love my mom! in Sharpie on the walls, lamps, and refrigerators.
But recently, while under all of this pressure, they stopped helping. Just… ignored everything. And I, the good mom that I am, proceeded with complete understanding and grace, knowing my precious babies were working hard on their educational goals.
…
…
Just kidding. I was kind of a bitch, seething with irritation about ONCE AGAIN HAVING TO DO EVERYTHING. For example, I let the kitchen recycling pile up over a few days, adding the overflow to multiple paper grocery bags just to make a passive-aggressive point that somebody was slacking, as mothers have a right to do.
Another example: Thomas asked what the orange ring around the sink drain was, and I took the opportunity to throw my own daughter under the bus. I snitched! Fed her to the wolves! Within her earshot, I snapped that it was mildew slime because Ruthie hadn’t cleaned the bathroom in three weeks! Which made her snap back, I’VE BEEN BUSY STUDYING, MOM!
As if the world stops getting dirty when we don’t have time to clean!
This isn’t working! I screamed internally.
But…but only when *they* fall short! I added for clarity, suppressing a clear double standard in which I’m allowed to drop everything and rely on everyone else to pick up the slack when I’m on a deadline.
I remembered back to my own busy schedule over the summer when I worked long hours to deliver multiple work deadlines throughout July and August while also maintaining a big garden. I was grouchy, slacked off on basic life maintenance, and left everyone to fend for themselves.
Gah. I finally relented.
And so we’ve reached another parenting milestone, one in which we realize our children are human adults(ish) with complicated pressures and emotions who are learning how to triage All The Things that demand their attention.
Instead of ratcheting up the pressure and expecting everyone to carry on as usual, I tried something new: offering grace and letting some things slide because life lessons! and real world! and other it takes a village! kind of bullshit.
The good news is, as of yesterday, both kiddos are done! They took all their tests and turned in all their papers—a huge accomplishment worth celebrating! We’re so proud!
At the dinner table last night, they both announced plans to spend the entire day today cleaning their rooms, putting their world back in order at the top of their relaxing, winter break from school.
I’m such a good mom.
😂 😂 😂
Until next time,
Jen
p.s. It’s Dark December, friends, and I’m losing steam. I think I’ll take a writing break to let this newsletter hibernate for a few weeks. See you in the new year!
👋 If someone came to mind while reading this, please help them find me!
A book update 🌼
I’m writing a memoir about the difficult and awkward conversations my husband and I have had with our kids over the years, including topics like death, faith, racism, and mental health, among others. I’m writing it for anyone who is a parent or who has a parent.
After a long hiatus from working on the draft, I spent the last couple of months collecting stories, mapping out a plan for the final three-ish unwritten chapters, and generally getting my head back into the project. I’ve been reading old journals, other people’s memoirs, and some of Bryan’s old essays from years ago.
It feels good to be working on it again, which is a relief. I was starting to worry that this was another project I would abandon to the ebb of ADHD boredom.
To help me stay on task to the end, I plan to share some shitty first drafts with you in the new year as I’ve done in the past. Your reactions and feedback have been super helpful in working out how to share these stories in an engaging, funny, and (hopefully) timeless way.
🎁 Give yourself something to look forward to in the new year!
One last thing…
It was this guy’s birthday yesterday!
The guy is my husband, Bryan, in case that wasn’t clear.
We kept it pretty chill this year, but here’s a recap of how we celebrated last year:
Happy belated birthday to Bryan!
This really resonanted with me. My kids are grappling with how to triage the things in their lives, and it's an easy thing for me to forget. I think part of that is down to my not fully acknowledging that one's an adult and one's not too far behind him.
Lastly, I hope you enjoy your time away and that's it's restful and refreshing!
Song for a Fifth Child
("Babies Don't Keep")
Mother, oh mother, come shake out your cloth! Empty the dustpan, poison the moth, Hang out the washing and butter the bread, Sew on a button and make up a bed. Where is the mother whose house is so shocking? She's up in the nursery, blissfully rocking! Oh, I've grown as shiftless as Little Boy Blue (Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby, loo). Dishes are waiting and bills are past due (Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo). The shopping's not done and there's nothing for stew And out in the yard there's a hullabaloo But I'm playing Kanga and this is my Roo. Look! Aren't her eyes the most wonderful hue? (Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo.) Oh, cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow, But children grow up, as I've learned to my sorrow. So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust, go to sleep. I'm rocking my baby. Babies don't keep.
-- Ruth Hulburt Hamilton
in Ladies Home Journal,
1958