Awesome and Snot-Filled Parenting

Some time in the fall, I think, my family and I sat on a picnic blanket at the top of Art Hill around sunset, eating sushi.  This guy and his friends walked by, saw us and yelled out, "You guys are awesome!"  And in that moment, we kind of were. Picture a beautiful, dark haired and big eyed five-month old, laying happily on the blanket as her calm and cool mom ate sushi and smiled at her.  Her dad probably looking out at the water ahead, or looking at their three-year-old girl.  That adorable three-year-old, with light brown curls swirling in the wind, attempting to use chop sticks to grab a roll.  We were awesome.

Well, for that guy, who saw us in our most awesome moment, for any of you who see us on Sunday mornings, all dolled-up with cute bows in our hair (well, not Isaac), or all of you who happen to catch up when we're eating at Mission Taco, enjoying a good brew because our perfectly behaved girls are entertained simply by eating their meals without any help, for you I write the following.

Parenting sometimes sucks.  It sucks when that three-year-old doesn't take a nap when she needs it, and I had plans to hang out with a friend while she slept.  She came down the first time because she's pooped in her pull-up, even though we've been practicing pooping in the toilet for almost a year.  Being interrupted is not a big deal, I tell myself, knowing that my friend totally understands, and even though the smell of $h!+ lingers in your kitchen, dining room and living room, it's darling how she said, "It's just, I got a poop."  The second time, though, when she came down for no good reason, well, to tell me that my 11-month-old is crying -- that's right because she's supposed to be napping, too.  I can hear her in the monitor crying on-and-off.  So she came down, the three-year-old, the second time to inform me of an annoying fact that I already knew.  While frustrated, I begin to feel slightly guilty, as if I'm so selfish wanting them to sleep only so I can be alone with my friend.  Guilt begins to take over and I begin to wonder if I put them to bed too early just because I wanted to get rid of them, even though I put them down at their normal nap time, that's why I'd scheduled the hang out at that time.  But maybe I rushed the bedtime process and my little one didn't nurse enough, even though that's not the case because she clearly didn't want anymore before I put her down.  Or my three year old doesn't feel seen or valued, even though I read her a book and held her before putting her down).

I ended up taking my three-year-old to bed a third or fourth time - I lost count - coming downstairs and crying, while my sweet friend prayed for me, while snot ran down my face.

At this point, I began to wonder, where's the guy from the park to tell me I'm awesome?