Confession

I have a confession to make:  Sometimes I don’t like being a parent.  There, I said it.  Or, wrote it.  Loud and proud.  For all the blogosphere to see.  Parenting is hard.  It gives me a headache.  And it’s a REALLY long-term commitment.  What was I thinking?? 

 

I realize that I’m looking pretty schizo, between yesterday’s super-sappy “mydaughter’sgrowingupIhavetoslowdownandenjoyit” post, and today’s cynical revelation.  But I guess that’s pretty much a picture of parenting.  Some days good, some days not so much.

 

My daughter has her own set of needs that make her more of a challenge than the average kid.  She is “more” everything…more emotional, more moody, more impulsive, more defiant.  And that makes my job MORE difficult.  Even after 9 years, even though I’m a highly trained pediatric nurse, even after reading every book that’s been written, and even after working with every specialist west of the Mississippi (well, not quite, but close) I still feel ill-equipped to handle this task. 

 

My daughter is adopted.  For me that translates to God saying “I chose this little person to be in your house for a very specific reason.  I could have placed her anywhere, but I need YOU to be her mom.”  WHY???  Perhaps God didn’t think about my impatience, or my short temper, or my desire to flee when things get hard.  Perhaps he overlooked my perfectionist tendencies, which really don’t work with my particular kid.  Perhaps he thought I was more…more loving, more caring, more motherly. 

 

Yes, I know that God says “I won’t give you anything you can’t handle” yada yada yada, but let’s be honest.  When you’re in the middle of what you think you can’t handle, there’s not much hope there.  I’m thinking maybe he forgot that promise in just this one instance.  Or maybe He thinks I can handle more than I really can.  Or maybe I need to just relax and trust Him.  I know that’s it, but it’s hard.  Harder than I signed up for.  Harder than anything else I’ve ever done.