Epic Parenting Fail Number 187-ish....

Dropping the F-bomb over getting homework done on only the second day of school.

I'd like to say that this was actually only my 187th parenting fail, but I'm sure it's nearing the thousands by now.  I'd love to blame my frustration on the cold medicine I've been hoarding the last few days, but I can't.  But the truth is nothing says "Back to school" at our house quite like a flailing teenager on the couch spending 45 minutes whining about how he can not possibly do his homework and my gradually rising voice about how the whole thing only taking him ten. Stinking. Minutes. TO. FINISH.

Oldest started high school on Tuesday.  Someone asked me if I was sad and truthfully, I am not. I have watched him grow and learn, succeed and fail. I don't spend my time looking back missing those days.  Sure, I have my moments of he-was-so-little, and reminisce of when he would climb into the car and ask for the "Rock and Roll" song and miraculously, it was always on, but I don't wish for that time back.  I was there through it all.  Ever present, through good and bad, warm and snuggly, sticky and oh-my-god-where-did-you-get-that? I do not want those days back.  Instead, I want all the days to come.  Watching him become more independent, learning, questioning, slamming his door and wanting my grilled cheese. Each year that passes is a new adventure with new mountains to move and I am confident and proud to see how he handles each and every day, head on, facing forward.

Youngest, if given his choice, would live his life from under the covers of his bed. No matter what year of school he's in, the previous year was always his favorite.  Even if it was a disaster, he'll want to go back.  None the less, he started eight grade this year. He hates his teachers.  He hates his homework.  He hates the bus, but he's willing to take it, so I'm calling that a win.  Every year is the same struggle and every summer I look back and check that grade off the list. His high school graduation will be such an accomplishment, let me tell you, I may request a diploma for myself.

Face book has this feature that shows you a "memory" from previous years posts.  Today there was a picture of Youngest standing on Tony's shoulders next to his sunflower "Sunny" that he grew from a seed, on a napkin, in a ziploc bag, into a 7 foot 5 inch sunflower. You can see the look of pride in his face... his little, round, chubby-cheeked face. His smile, missing only one of his baby teeth, beamed with pride. You'd think that I'd miss that face, those moments of starting sunflower seeds on the window, of him being small enough to put on Tony's shoulders.  But no.  Not even an inkling of regret passed through me.  Not one thought of doing more, or of missing out.

And I refuse to feel guilty for that.  I may not be the best parent, but I am the most effective parent they could ever have.  If I can not give them what they need I find someone that can, because I am not the only influence they will need in life. And in being there, either next to them or waaaaayyy in the back, peeking from behind the curtains, I have not missed, and will not miss a moment of it. Every good, stinky, pimply-faced, brokenhearted, proud, life changing minute of it.

Incidentally, I after checking the other "memory moments" from September 3rd, I found the post from 8 hours later that said, "Had to leave work early today to pick my son up from the principal's office.  It's the THIRD day of school.  That's got to be some kind of record."

Yup.

No. Regrets. At. All.