I should just stay off of Facebook. Really. And I would, because it’s definitely what my husband would call a “time suck” but I just CAN’T for some reason.
So, here’s what I learned from Facebook this week, in no particular order: I don’t love Jesus, because I just kept scrolling instead of sharing (really guys? How can this still be a thing?). The Patriots are still on trial for murder … or deflating their footballs or whatever. Shutterfly is offering something wonderful that I should be getting for my kids because I want to make memories and put them on magnets and coffee mugs. I love my kids more than anyone else in the world loves their kids because I homeschool.
Okay, so here’s an actual comment as close as I can remember it from someone’s Facebook post about school starting. “Parents in my community are throwing a Back to School party because their kids are going to be ‘out of their hair’ starting next week. Does anyone else find this heartbreaking?”
There were so many funny comments that I can’t even attempt to describe them all. Most were appalled that these horrific parents were excited to be “free” of their precious babies who are growing up unloved and unaccepted and blahdy blah. Some of them were a little more get-a-gripish in nature. The one that struck me as the most hilarious and disingenuous was the precious mom who wrote “I cherish every moment with my children. This breaks my heart.”
Wow. Cherish every moment.
I did not comment because I was being good. Trying to stay positive and not make enemies with a million strangers. Also my two and a half year old was hitting me on the leg with her sippy cup saying “Mo noke” (more milk) for the seven hundredth time and I had to stop and get her a refill. All these moments to cherish.
I really like homeschooling, and my children, and keeping house (sometimes) and all the things. My life is full of awesome. I want to puke when I hear the word cherish, but there is definitely a lot of love to go around in this household … and then there are those days that the school bus rolls down our street and I want to run after it screaming, “Wait! Wait! Take mine too!”
We are too hard on each other, parents.
There are parents who go to the park with their children and dog their every footstep. They hover over them, hold out nervous arms as children climb up and down high things, call out advice while they slide down slides … we’ve all seen them, some of us ARE them. And then there are the ones who go and sit at a picnic table and look at their iPhones as their kids climb, slide, jump and whatever else.
Some parents breastfeed. Some wrap their babies around their bodies and wear them everywhere, some opt for strollers. Some homeschool, some pay for private school, some send their kids to public school and then attend parties to celebrate their newfound freedom. Heathens.
So which of these truly loves their children? Um … all of them. I rarely meet a parent who doesn’t love their children. Also, I’ve NEVER met one who actually “cherishes every moment” with them. We feel like whatever path we’ve chosen is best for our kids, or we wouldn’t have chosen it, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t other paths.
Helicopter parenting would exhaust me. It makes me tired just to watch them at the park. I admit though, I have to shut my eyes and just breathe when my children climb higher than I want them to fall. I get up to push them on the swings for the last ten minutes of park time. If they beg me to, I’ll slide down the slide with one of them. Other than that, I usually stand to the side and observe. I don’t generally sit with my iPhone, but sometimes I do … because I’m fried, and I brought them to the park so I wouldn’t have to entertain them.
My kind of love is working so far, because they still kiss me goodnight, give me big hugs, want me to sing 20 songs to them before they’ll go to sleep. My kids love me, and they feel loved … also, if another person was going to get them all out of my hair for a big chunk of the day every day, I might throw a party. Because then I would have time to go to the post office, address Christmas cards, get a haircut for the second time this year, clean my kitchen. A clean kitchen would make anyone want to throw a party.