Little Children

Sometimes I think I am not cut out for this parenting gig at all.

I just finished reading Little Children by Tom Perrotta, which I started last week. I watched the movie years ago, and I found a paperback copy of the novel in the little free library at the park at the beginning of this month. It sat on my nightstand for awhile because I wasn’t even sure that I wanted to read it. I haven’t really been into fiction for awhile, but after finally giving it a go, I couldn’t put it down. One of the characters, Sarah, seems to be written in my honor. She seems likable enough, but from the very first chapter, it is obvious that she is a free-floater. She doesn’t really connect to any of the other moms at the park, and she doesn’t seem to have a lot of friends. Sarah is a little lost, simply going through the motions as a mom. Her husband isn’t really interested in co-parenting. She is detached from her daughter in a sense because she finds parenting somewhat unfulfilling. This is the part that I most identify with.

I feel a little guilty even typing that, but it’s true.

Don’t get me wrong…I love my kids, and I usually at least like being a mom. But lately, the struggle is EPIC. Preschool is a tough age on a normal day, but contending with two precious 4-year olds simultaneously is a little too much for me. They are at the age where they are constantly fighting about what to watch on television, who gets to be Anna versus Elsa, who gets the pink plate or the green plate at dinner. There was a brief period last year where I was really grateful that there were two of them because they at least kept each other entertained. Now I spend more time refereeing than anything, and I am so tired. There is no break.

Last week, I had a flash of guilt because it seemed that every night’s dinner consisted of chicken nuggets or fish sticks. I felt like I wasn’t putting the effort into finding fun things that they would like for dinner. I hopped on Pinterest like a great mom would, and I quickly pinned recipes for taco rollups, bacon cheeseburger penne (kid approved!) and pizzas made out of Pillsbury Grand Biscuits. I was convinced that my kids were going to be so ecstatic. I used to make their baby food from scratch, and they are usually pretty good about eating veggies. Butternut squash, broccoli, ghost broccoli / cauliflower, you name it. But all of these pins were a giant waste. I spent thirty minutes each night for a week creating meals that I was really excited about only to end up heating up nuggets or fish sticks after they announced they hated them. Pinterest is officially the place where mom dreams go to die. If I read one more post where a mom blogger claims that her kids all begged for seconds on her “secret surprise casserole”, I will lose my head.

When Kylie was little and I was freshly divorced and sort of getting my life together, I hoped and prayed that I would get the chance to have another baby later on. I wanted to be able to experience parenthood with a partner, someone who actually participated instead of leaving everything on my shoulders. I know that having someone else around isn’t always easier (ahem, in Sarah’s case), but for God’s sake, it has to count for something. I catch myself looking around at my life sometimes and thinking that this is not what I signed up for. I feel so much anger at the twins’ dad because he has been non-existent for almost five years now.. He pops up randomly and says that he wants to be involved and that this time will be different, but his eagerness only lasts for a week at most before he gets distracted and disappears. When things are particularly frustrating, I get the urge to text him and remind him of what a piece of garbage he is, but that will undoubtedly only remind him that we exist, and then I will be forced to interact with him for a few days until he gets bored again.

It would be nice to do this parenting thing with someone who at least showed an interest in the girls. I have given up on Captain Douche being involved, but I am not looking for anyone else to pick up the reins. I daydream about having a break while someone else takes over for a little while. I fantasize about having a life that involves a husband who sometimes takes care of the chicken nuggets or bath time. But I don’t think that having those things is worth the work it will take to get there. I do not want to date anytime soon. I honestly cannot figure out how I did it when Kylie was little. The thought of having to put in all of that effort to try find a decent guy who is worthy of heels and lip gloss just makes me tired. I remember how difficult it was when things got messy and boyfriends couldn’t get out of there fast enough, and for the record, it always got messy. I don’t have time for heartbreak.

When I tucked the twins into bed last night, I gave them a goodnight kiss and told them that I love them. Livvy has this singsong way of saying “I love you” that is so sweet and genuine, and it absolutely melts my heart. I felt a little bit guilty for being so frustrated with the two of them. I’m sure it isn’t easy to be four either. I know that this time in our lives is brief and that this too shall pass. Today, I will remind myself to soak up the good things before focusing on the not-so-good. And I will also try to find another great book to start.