With the sun shining through my window, a kick on the back from my toddler reminds me that I should get her to sleep in her own bed. I just don’t want to. I suppose that makes me an awful parent for co-sleeping. I know for a fact other parents will condemn me for this awful choice I’ve made.
I feed that same toddler and her two sisters a breakfast of doughnuts. The food has plenty of gluten and sugar, coated in chocolate for their grumbling morning bellies. It isn’t that I don’t try to feed them healthy foods, They said no to every somewhat good-for-you option I offered. So we settled on this. I just don’t feel like making a struggle of it. I guess that is lazy parenting in some people’s book.
With loads of kisses before school, I send the older ones off to their lessons. The youngest stays behind and spends her day running around like a madwoman, with nothing on but a pair of underwear and a t-shirt, her choice attire for the day. I did put pants on her, but I have no idea where they even may have ended up.
I at least have her potty trained. I worked with her and had her using the bathroom almost immediately after her second birthday. We spent a week diaper free, pants free, running around, cleaning up messes, and discovering the potty. So I guess for that, I might be a good mom.
As the time comes for the older girls to come home from school, I start to consider dinner. They love meatloaf and I love how easy it is to shove with vegetables for them to get their fill without even knowing. Underneath the brown sugar and ketchup glaze, I add spinach, onions, peppers and celery. I put the mix away to cook when they get home.
Once we make it back home, I put dinner in the oven and start to help them with their homework. At least, I think I’m helping, dividing fractions isn’t really as easy as my third grader makes it look. I think she teaches me more than I actually help. At least she gets a kick out of being smarter than her dad and stepmom.
We eat dinner in the living room. I know terrible, right? Cartoons are on the TV. (I’m really starting to sound like an awful parent.)
After dinner, I get all the kids to come outside to run around and play for a while. A little exercise will do them some good. The toddler is fully dressed by now. We all laugh as a family and enjoy the evening before bed.
They are given a quick snack before I send them all off to bed, resting on the couch to get in a few episodes of my favorite shows.
This is an average day in my household. Sure maybe it isn’t the greatest, most spectacular day, but I wouldn’t call it the worst either. I like to think it is just pretty average, and hope these type of days won’t leave the kids messed up somehow.
With so much information on all the ways you can leave a child emotionally distressed as they go into adulthood, I can’t keep up with it all. The best thing I can do is do it my way and hope it works. I don’t want to stress too much, and somehow I feel if I do, so will they. They see what I’m doing. They see I’m happy with our life, and so are they.
The average is what works for my family, and I don’t want to change that. I like it.
So what If I’m not the greatest parent ever. So what If I lose cool points for not being a “bad mom” who lets her kids run wild while I party it up all day every day.
I just want to know my family is happy, and seeing them smile makes being average perfectly worthwhile.