Back in my hometown, my mother must be laughing her ass off.
Parenting is, simultaneously, everything I could have ever hoped for AND everything I wish it weren't. Weird, but true. It doesn't surprise me in the least that every time I think I have it figured out I discover that I've only scratched the surface. I've been ready for that. That, I expected.
What I didn't expect was the counterintuitiveness of it all. Over the last six months I feel like I've had the words "evil parent" tattooed on my forehead (my son sees them constantly, yet my mirror reveals nothing); over the last year that warm, fuzzy "rewarding" feeling one gets from parenting has been on vacation somewhere; over the last two or three months, people tell me what a good Dad I am with bizarre regularity. I'll know what it feels like if one day I'm at an intersection and both the red and green lights go on at the same time.
I've discovered something this evening, however, and I'm hoping I didn't discover it too late. Maybe my mother said it to me long ago, and maybe others have said it, too--I'll admit that I must not have been listening, 'cause I just figured it out. If I discipline my child, or set limits to his activities, or require quid-pro-quo for privileges, I am playing the "bad guy," but I am doing it for the welfare of the child. The maxim for MY parenting, therefore, is this: The quality of one's parenting at any given moment is inversely proportional to the way the parent feels about it in that same moment. So if a parent sets such limits or erects such barriers and feels good about it, he's probably not done it properly.
If that's true (in my case, at least), I must be doing a brilliant job; because I feel like a complete heel.
*This quote comes from 1983's "Mr. Mom." He didn't think he was doing it right, either.