Deja Vu All Over Again

Dear kiddo,

I see how you look at me sometimes, like I'm a grownup, and there's no way I can understand what it is like to be a kid. It is hard to imagine your mom and dad as kids.

But believe me when I say we once were young, just like you.

We thought our parents were old-fashioned, and didn't understand anything, just like you. (Side note: if you ever really want to laugh, search for "Parents Just Don't Understand" by Will Smith on YouTube. Yes, before he was a mega-movie star, he was a teen rapper. Your parents knew every word. If you really want to be embarrassed, we'll sing it for you.)

You see, there's this thing called genetics. Simply put, you are a combination of us, and our families, and all the strengths and weaknesses we have.

When you leave your shoes (or your toys or your papers or your stuffed animal) in the middle of the floor, or in the wrong room, and you can't understand why it is a big deal, I understand. I did that, too.

When you say you hate to clean, I understand. I do, too.  Even now.  Even when I know it has to be done, and I am happier with a clean(er) house, I hate it. With a passion.

When you fight me on trying something new, like learning to tie your shoes, I understand. I didn't wear contacts for years because I was too afraid. Of what, I'm not sure. 

When you sit down to do your homework, and you look at me like I am stabbing daggers in your heart when I say you have to do every problem on the math sheet, that's your dad in you. When you start crying because I make you rewrite an entire sentence because your handwriting is messy, that is from me (well, your daddy doesn't have legible handwriting either, but in an entirely different way).

When you wake up early and can't get back to sleep, because it's morning and you aren't supposed to spend time in bed once it is morning, well, that is your father. I have no part in that.

So you see, I do understand. But as a parent, as an adult, I have a new perspective. I try to remind myself what it feels like to be a kid. During homework time, I give you breaks. I allow some chaos in certain areas of the house so you can continue to play without feeling like you're constantly having to pick up toys. But there are still rules, because, as an adult, I realize that parents do know what they are talking about (at least sometimes).

We really don't want ants, or worse, in our house because we didn't clean up our dishes or mop the floor. I, personally, am okay if Curious George hangs out on the couch, but you have to have him to sleep, and we don't want to spend every night searching for him when you should be in bed. It is no fun to have to write your sentence again, but if you don't, your teacher won't be able to read what you wrote, and you really do have something great to share with the world. I don't want you to miss out because your handwriting is messy. And homework has to be done, correctly, to establish good study habits, and because even though you may understand the concepts, you hurry through and make careless errors sometimes (just like your mom).

I consider myself a pretty cool parent, and I hope you do, too. I know you don't like it when I sing or dance. But I want to be silly with you, laugh with you, have fun with you. I know as you reach your tween and teen years, I will seem even less cool than I do now. That's okay.

Being a parent is tough. But being a kid is pretty tough sometimes, too. I haven't forgotten. I love you bushels!