The Better Parent
The thing about being a widow is I am always the better parent. No matter what I do.
Because every day I DO wake up at 5:45 am, and I do make breakfast for three kids and pack their lunches and go to work and come home and feed the kids and clean the house and fold the laundry and put the kids to bed. And no matter how I do those things, even if I spend fifteen minutes in the car crying before I pick my baby up from daycare, I am doing it. I am parenting. I am sticking around and dealing with shit.
I judge myself a lot. I see toys left out on the floor, or an unmade bed, or walls that have remained unpainted for six months, and I tell myself I should be doing better.
It comes from outside sources, too. My parents tell me to feed the kids more vegetables. My job tells me to get to work on time. I can do better. I can always do better.
In my head, when I hear these things, I say "fuck off. At least I'm doing it. At least I'm here. At least I didn't leave my kids without a mom. At least I am feeding them. At least I am paying the bills. At least I am making sure they are fed and clothed and that they feel safe. At least I am here to give them hugs, to kiss them when they get hurt, to make them pancakes on weekends, to check their homework. At least I do this every day, without drugs, without alcohol, without locking myself in a room. At least I do this. I am the better parent because at least I am here."
Every day is a fucking challenge. But I do it.
I am the better parent, because I am the only parent.
But fuck. I CAN do better. I know I can do better.
I could feed the kids more vegetables. I could clean up all the toys. I could get to work earlier. I could paint the walls.
I am always the better parent. I am never the best parent.
Because every day I DO wake up at 5:45 am, and I do make breakfast for three kids and pack their lunches and go to work and come home and feed the kids and clean the house and fold the laundry and put the kids to bed. And no matter how I do those things, even if I spend fifteen minutes in the car crying before I pick my baby up from daycare, I am doing it. I am parenting. I am sticking around and dealing with shit.
I judge myself a lot. I see toys left out on the floor, or an unmade bed, or walls that have remained unpainted for six months, and I tell myself I should be doing better.
It comes from outside sources, too. My parents tell me to feed the kids more vegetables. My job tells me to get to work on time. I can do better. I can always do better.
In my head, when I hear these things, I say "fuck off. At least I'm doing it. At least I'm here. At least I didn't leave my kids without a mom. At least I am feeding them. At least I am paying the bills. At least I am making sure they are fed and clothed and that they feel safe. At least I am here to give them hugs, to kiss them when they get hurt, to make them pancakes on weekends, to check their homework. At least I do this every day, without drugs, without alcohol, without locking myself in a room. At least I do this. I am the better parent because at least I am here."
Every day is a fucking challenge. But I do it.
I am the better parent, because I am the only parent.
But fuck. I CAN do better. I know I can do better.
I could feed the kids more vegetables. I could clean up all the toys. I could get to work earlier. I could paint the walls.
I am always the better parent. I am never the best parent.
You are an incredible human being...a powerful woman and mother. Imperfection is beauty and always remember work can't start till you get there.....so are you really late. Thank you for letting us in....until we meet
ReplyDeleteYou can and should be so proud of yourself. There will be less people coping with your situation as good and as strong as you're doing! Just hope you will also get a lot of well deserved and needed hugs yourself. All the best!
ReplyDeleteI'm a 44yr old widow with two kids and your stories hit home. This blog in particular, "I am the better parent...but not the best" is spot on. My wife passed unexpectedly 2 yrs ago and it's been a challenge ever since that never gets easier but I have to do it. We all have a sob story and it shouldn't be an excuse to step down from the daily challenges, my kids didn't ask for it and deserve the same love and affection as if there is still 2 parents.....I'm the two parents. It's a fuckin beat down everyday between work, making end meets, cleaning the house, laundry, cooking, homeworks and everything else in between and all the unplanned little events that occurs daily. The hardest thing I found through all this madness is finding ME time. And I believe is what holds my sanity together.
ReplyDeleteThanks for sharing your stories, I'm so sorry to hear about the circumstances of your situation (personally my children 10-12 found mommy uncounscious while I was at work...crazy) Keep doing what you do, keep pusbing , you're a badass. You have a new reader! Thanks
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