I am heartless

After Pamela's confirmation, we attended a party that we "jointly" threw with another family whose daughter was also being confirmed. Following that, we attended a party thrown by another family whose child was also being confirmed, but Pamela and this child do not get along...this is all a rather long explanation for my current issue of heartlessness.

A mother at the second party kind of hit me at a bad time. She told me how adorable my two year old is and how she so very much wished that her son was still two.

I'm VERY tired of being told how I will miss this time in my children's lives. How my two year old is adorable and how it sucks to have a teenager. I really tire of this because I DO have a teenager and even though most people don't see her, because she can stay home, she does exist.

I remember when she was little like the boys. I remember when we made cookies for Daddy who was deployed. I remember playing dolls and tools and playing on the playground. Putting her on the back of my bike and trekking across Germany. I remember those sweet times.

But apparently, something that others forget, are the less than sweet times. The times when after the spinning ride at the carnival, they vomit on you. The times when they dump an entire cup of Sprite on your silk blouse and the couch of the person whose home you're visiting. When they pee, poop, or spit on you. When you leave the playground covered in mud, chocolate, dirt, or blood (or on a particularly bad day, all of the above).

They are still sweet times, and I have four children, so it's not like I don't like children, but I doubt I will wish, when my boys are all teenagers, that they were back to being those little creatures that didn't listen to me AND covered me in every imaginable substance. For now, I will enjoy the time I have AND try to teach them to be responsible, polite, engaging human beings that, I assure you, I will enjoy being around when they are teenagers.

I may be heartless. But my goal is to raise good people that will grow up and leave me...not necessarily because I want them to, but because that's what they need to do. And that's what being a parent is all about.