Why Parents Hate Fun
Why Parents Hate Fun
I come home from an errand on a Saturday morning to my three lovely daughters having a painting class. There is so much creativity going on.
No, I haven’t splurged on an art tutor.
They have come up with this all themselves. Paints are out. They have discovered how to make butterflies by putting dollops of paint on half of the page, folding it, and unfolding it to a beautiful mix of colors that create unique butterfly wings.
It's a beautiful sight. Creativity. Art. Sisterly love. All blended together for a moment worthy of a Pinterest graphic.
Ahhhh! I should take a picture.
I could put it on Instagram and, without saying it directly, imply my superior parenting and children.
20 minutes later they are screaming, water and paint have spilled on my dinner chair, someone kicked someone, kid #3 is screeching in someone's face shortly before they punch her in the shoulder.
Also, my paints are all empty.
Many tears are shed.
Whoever said that boys are loud never had girls. They have some pipes on 'em, that’s for sure.
This is real life. This is why I have become a total grump, skeptic, and jerk-face person. Others see the beauty, and I see it too.
I SEE THE BEAUTY IN THESE SPECIAL MOMENTS.
But I also see the future. Yes, I am actually psychic at this point. It’s a cool talent, however it kind of ruins moments.
Without fail, when the kids have fun, play together, make beautiful art, etcetera, there is eventually:
- If I’m lucky- injury
You guys! I’m totally serious.
I don’t know if I was always such a jerk. Maybe I was. I don’t remember what I was like in the 90s. That was a long time ago. I recall ice blocking once and jumping into a pool fully clothed...
Now I see fun and dread grows in my tummy.
I am currently watching a slapping fight that has erupted post art class. I couldn’t make this stuff up!
A few weeks ago my son was getting out of the shower, he slipped a little, grabbed the glass door, and ended up needing seven stitches when the whole thing exploded.
If you haven’t had the pleasure of cleaning up a 3-foot by 5-foot piece of tempered glass, I suggest installing glass shower doors. It’s something we should all experience. (I'd also suggest getting good health insurance first.)
Blood had actually squirted on the wall. (He's fine now. Some cool scars though.)
My life is a combination of CSI and Fear Factor.
Over the Summer we had two bike accidents. One resulted in a double bloody nose. It’s always an experience to clean blood out of shoes. I met a doctor once who said he didn't go into Obstetrics because, "you get stuff in your shoes." I don't have any cool degrees and I clean bodily fluids out of shoes on the regular.
The other bike accident resulted in two busted front teeth- yes, they were adult ones- and multiple dental visits. Thankfully, she shouldn’t need root canals until she’s 18 and can pay for them herself.
I guess that’s a tender mercy?!
There was also a dog bite, vomiting, countless messes and fights that erupted after “fun” time had gotten old, and more.
I really want my kids to have fun. They will continue to ride bikes, scooters, skateboards, and other small injury machines. They will continue to jump on the trampoline, have time to “create art,” play, fight, make mistakes and “work stuff out.”
I’m the parent whose kids are climbing incorrectly and dangerously on the trees and playground equipment. I’m not a helicopter mom.
I know this stuff is important. I know they need to learn their limits, resolve conflict, and create beauty.
And I don’t REALLY hate fun. I just know that it ends with an injury. Or a fistfight.
When I see happy kids running screaming around the house, I pretty much know that it’s a matter of time before someone falls and starts bleeding from their face.
(And yes, all four of my kids have a scar on their face. I’m not being paranoid! I'm psychic. I swear this stuff happens!)
I could go on, but I need to go open the door. An offended child just locked out two other children and the neighbors will start wondering what goes on in this house very shortly.
So, in closing. Next time you hear a parent telling their kids not to run down a hill, a hallway, or in the house or see a mom break up a fist-fight or say no to “crafting’ with a crazy glint in her eye, remember that she isn't crazy.
Know that while that mom may hate fun, be sarcastic, negative, and a full-grown version of the Grumpy dwarf, she comes by it honestly.
And I guarantee she's seen someone biff it on concrete when they ran in flip-flops.