Those demanding sprouts

I didn’t put a great deal of thought into parenthood before having kids, but I knew what kind of parent I didn’t want to be. I would see mothers holding up lines while ordering because they were consulting their tired three-year-old about whether to get the cheeseburger or the chicken nugget happy meal. I didn’t want to be that parent, for a number of reasons.

Or the guy who, seeing his kid melt down in a grocery store, caves in to the kid’s every demand. That, I told myself, would never be me. And of course I didn’t want to be the parent that complains about their kids, reprimanding them in public so everyone knows what a good parent you are and how bad they are. I also didn’t want to be one of those parents who have trouble talking about anything other than their kids.

I’ve managed to stick to some of these promise. I haven’t yet given into to the threat of the public tantrum (but plenty of opportunities await in the future.) And I’m not much for asking toddlers which menu options strike their fancy.

But in some ways I’ve failed. I often find myself talking at length about what Ellen said the other morning, or how June can already hot-wire a car…

But what I didn’t know before I became a parent (and wouldn’t have known even if someone had tried to explain it) is that a kid is so time-consuming and demanding that they become a bigger part of your life than you expect. Naturally there is a parent’s love for his child — that I part I did anticipate — but there is also the fact that, to some degree, the life of a parent is one of either caring for kids or thinking about caring for kids.

And yet in the meanwhile, life goes on. Things like jobs don’t become optional because you’re a parent. And so to my surprise, because of the demands of being a parent, I’ve found that I’m more efficient and productive than I was before having kids. My life up until I was forty was one of almost constant procrastination. But now I do very little procrastination. Wasting time is a luxury I just don’t have anymore.

But, while I may be more efficient, my time is still very, very limited. So some things suffer. And one of those things is this blog. For a long time I wrote three or four entries a month, but now I’m pressed to write one a month.

And what are those entries generally about? My kids, naturally.

But ultimately there isn’t much to say.  They are, despite the mistakes I make and will continue to make, delightful, happy, healthy girls. Incredibly demanding, yes, but delightful.