Blog, Blog, Blog

We get our household goods delivered to us first thing tomorrow morning and I feel like I'm six years old and it's Christmas Eve. Though I'm sure the excitement is only felt by me and Seth, which is understandable because when you have a house with your furniture in it and pictures of loved ones on the wall you tend to not understand how tough it is to come home to a nearly empty house everyday.

Perhaps I'm materialistic or perhaps I'm just human. Either way, I like things - tangible things. I don't need things, I won't be miserable without things, but I like things - material things. I want things, I work for things, I check my bank statement and think about how many things I can buy according to my balance. We're not talking shopaholic status here or anything, I'm just talking about a love of things.

And surprisingly I'm not a pack-rat, by any means. I'm actually the complete opposite - I LOVE throwing things away. Like not in a wasteful way, but I love going through the "junk drawer" in the kitchen and tossing out papers we no longer need. I love going into my closet, or the kids' closets and getting rid of clothes or shoes that are too small, or worn out, or no longer in style. I love cleaning. I love order. I love seeing that I have found a trash bag worth of stuff to take out of the house - it gives me a high, in a sense. I feel happier, I feel lighter, I feel cleaner, and I can breath easier. What does that mean? Well, I could sit here and "shrink" myself all day, and sometimes I do, but I think I already know what my need to rid my home of clutter means - and I'm okay with it.

I just like nice things. I've always had nice things. My parents worked very hard to be able to give me and my brother nice things. I never wanted as a child. If I was at the store and wanted something it was safe to say that I was coming home with it. I never remember a time when my parents struggled like most couples starting off do. Nope, my parents were past that stage by the time I could form lasting memories. And yet, somehow, they were able to raise me to be a well-rounded, appreciative adult.

There were some bumps along the way of course; everyone has those. I went through my rebellious stage and I'm certain I gave each of my parents a few gray hairs during my teenage years. Nevertheless, I ended up okay.

A lot of parents seem to think that their child(ren) need(s) to be a saint, a scholar, have a twenty year plan, understand the world, appreciate the little things in life and love unconditionally by the time they graduate high school. And these same parents seem to think that if their child(ren) lack(s) any one of those qualities, then they must've failed as parents. But the truth is, a parents' work never stops. Your words of wisdom (and even words you wish you could take back) stick with us forever. We never forget. We may act, sometimes, like we have forgotten. We may, at times, speak as if you were never there for us. We may even make you question whether or not you imagined our entire childhood and that we were, instead, actually raised by a pack of wolves. And some of us may not show you we've grasped the lessons we've learned or lessons you taught us. But eventually we get it - eventually we grow up to be the amazing person you intended to send out into the world.

And for each of us the reason for the seemingly sudden awakening of a productive life will be different. For some of us it will seem to be becoming parents ourselves that help us make the change to being better people. For some of us it will seem to be losing a loved one that makes us really cherish life. But just know that while it may seem to be a single incident that changes us, that is far from the case.

We never changed. That thoughtful, understanding person that we seemed to become after having a child was always deep within us. We may have rarely showed you that we had that side to us, but we did. And you, our parents, are the ones to thank for that.

And some children may never seem to learn. Some may live a life in and out of prison. Some may have children and be an absentee parent. Some may disrespect their parents, or take advantage of their parents. Some may show you, with their actions, that you failed as a parent - but this isn't the case. Deep down, the lessons you've taught your children are with them. Deep down they know you raised them well, or as well as you could.

As parents, we all do our best. Even if it doesn't seem that way at times. From the drug addict who doesn't have food in the house for their children to the parents like mine, who gave me everything I could have ever wanted - they all try their best. And their best may change from month to month or year to year - and that's okay. Because no matter what, you taught your children brilliant lessons that only you could teach. And because of that, we become who we are. And regardless of what we may show through our actions, none of you have failed as parents.