Parenting Is Like Folding a Fitted Sheet

snarkecard_fold fitted sheet

When I started this blog, I wanted it to be a place where I could make light of the heavy parts of parenting. Have a good laugh at it, you know? Maybe you’ve noticed lately that I haven’t posted much. To tell you the truth, I haven’t laughed much these days. You hear it all the damn time. PARENTING IS HARD . It’s such a simple statement that holds so much weight. When we say it, we’re not complaining as much as we are standing on top of a proverbial mountain and screaming that — dammit – sometimes this shit is hard. And you don’t know what to do. Or what parenting approach to take. Or what that damn parenting book said that has now gathered so much dust, the dust bunnies have unionized. When I feel like this, the blog starts to feel like a fraud. I feel conflicted, as I want to come clean about how I’m feeling but, with a few exceptions, I wanted this blog to be about love and laughter and light (and becoming a meth-head hobo mom). Not about depression and hard times and feeling like a failure. But, as they say, that’s life.

To be perfectly honest, I’m struggling. I joke about my 4-year-old having contracted asshole-itis. And some days, I can really laugh about it. Other days, though, this kid has my number and watching myself try the same useless techniques to get him to behave makes me feel like crying. Or hitting something. Or running away. I feel like a complete failure. It’s funny to even put it that way, as I’m struggling in a whole different way with my 6-year-old. I worry that he’s behind in school and will never catch up. I worry that I won’t be able to help with this mother*cking common core. Don’t even get me started on the “new math.” I was such a neurotic student, myself, and I don’t want to pass that onto him, but I feel as though I already am. I still have nightmares on a weekly basis about missing the date for dropping classes, or showing up to the wrong room for an exam. Every night these days, I seem to give myself a grade as I shut the door to their bedroom at night, and that grade is a big old “F”. For a type-A personality, this is a lot to swallow, especially when it comes to parenting. I never thought I’d be an “A” parent if I’m being totally honest. But I never thought I’d be failing.

As I was doing the laundry this morning and thinking about it all, I realized that parenting is like folding a fitted sheet. Who in the hell knows what to do with this thing anyway? It’s impossible to fold it perfectly. It doesn’t come with instructions and, even if it did, the curves and wrinkles get in the way. There is no way to coax it to do the things you want it to do. What’s the definition of insanity? Trying the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. “F*ck you, fitted sheet!” I yelled. And then I laughed. And then I cried. I am going to try to be nicer to myself, as parenting is like trying to fold a fitted sheet. It’s never going to go exactly the way we want it to go but all we can do is appreciate (and occasionally laugh at) our own efforts. I have to accept that I’m doing enough but, more importantly, that I’m enough. Some days, my grade might be barely passing but I know I’ll always get an “A” for effort. Even in the face of heartache and hard times, I show up, and I’m doing the best I can. How about you?

 

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Comments

  1. shannon5757 says:

    PERFECT simile; well done, Marn.

    I think you need to cut yourself a much needed break. The only parents that worry if they are failing are the good ones, so I have a feeling you’re doing A-okay.

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