#assholeparent

I wake up early so I can avoid these kinds of things.

That’s what I tell myself at least. Raising 4 children doesn’t always make that a reality, though. Raising kids at all brings all sorts of things to the surface. Not in the least of which is a fear that you’re going to be the primary reason they’re going to be as messed up as you are when they’re adults.

But sometimes whatever you’re going through at any given moment collides with them and it isn’t pretty. This was the scene Monday morning in my home.

I had gotten up early as usual and instead of taking some time aside for myself to recharge, center myself and set the pace for the rest of the day, I decided to tidy up and clean up a little from the weekend. I chose to reset the condition of the home rather than the condition of myself.

I wake everyone up at 7am on school mornings. The boys had both woke up before 6:30am. They initially sat themselves on the couch and were alarmingly quiet while I started the dishes. The quiet, behaved, good little boys quickly turned into kicking each other under a blanket, yelling at the other to “STOP IT!”, and getting the dog riled up which added even more chaos. In my attempt to keep the house relatively quiet for the rest still sleeping, I had repeatedly asked them to keep quiet.

“What do you want for breakfast?” I asked, thinking it would at least distract them. I ended up turning the water off, drying my hands, and having one of the boys go get dressed for the day while I started making their breakfast.

After a while, Atlas came out naked holding a hoodie, a shirt, 1 sock, underwear and a bow tie. I knelt down to help him, realizing there were no pants and the bow tie wasn’t going to fit well without a collar. As I tried to explain he would need to wear pants to school and, while I like the bow tie, he was going to need a different shirt to go along with it, he began stomping his feet and screaming, “NO!” in my face. The frustration began.

In a quick shut down attempt, I shuffled him back into his room. I finished preparing breakfast while I waited for his inevitable return. This time with a button down, but still no pants. I reminded him of the pants situation but met him half way and started fixing his shirt on him. It didn’t take long before I realized there were several buttons missing on the shirt to which I informed him we’d have to find another one that had all its buttons. Again, he stomped and screamed out and I escorted him back into his room. The blood continued to boil under the surface.

It was 7 now, and time to get Ella up for school. My son came back out, this time with pants and a polo. I sent Benjamin in to get dressed and began prepping lunches.

When Benjamin couldn’t find his toothbrush, I reminded him that it was either in the bathroom or in the cabinet next to the bathroom. He insisted he couldn’t find it. The frustrations continued to pile on top of one another. Again, I stopped the dishes, huffing and puffing my way over to the cupboard to move a couple things around to find his toothbrush probably where he put it away last. I snagged it, wagging it in his face letting him know he clearly didn’t look hard enough. He stared at me with wounded eyes. I scoffed it off and went back to the dishes.

Most mornings, once the kids are up, look pretty much the same. There is the basic routine and the same battle my wife and I fight with them each morning. By the time things seemed like they were settling down and I was about to start getting ready for work myself, there was the whistle.

This seemingly innocent whistle is what set everything else in motion. There I am, taking a sip of my now lukewarm coffee, when I hear it. It was one of those sounds that gets lost in the background of everything else, though.

“Daddy, was that you?” Ella asked innocently. “Did you whistle?”

To which I shot back, “I didn’t do or say anything, Ella!”

I took another sip, looking at the time, when I notice the whistle again. There was a brief moment I even thought of starting my own investigation into the whistle just so I didn’t have to field any more nonsense questions.

“Daddy, was that you?” She asked again, giggling.

I set my coffee down hard, shot her a look that could have vaporized her on the spot and repeated myself, “I said I didn’t do or say anything, Ella. Which means I didn’t whistle. I didn’t DO OR SAY ANYTHING! OK?!” Clearly I am a child.

“Ok”, she answered back sheepishly, staring at me with vacant eyes. The kind of eyes that hold a sense of disbelief and confusion. Benjamin, having been my most recent casualty even stopped what he was doing. Probably to see if daddy was going to “lose it”. Well, son, unfortunately, daddy has already lost it.

Seeing their reaction to me, my heart sunk and I knew I screwed up. By all accounts, Ella was a passive recipient to my frustration. She wasn’t even up long enough to fuel some of the irritation the boys had earlier.

I made my walk of shame over to my daughter.

I pulled her close and called the boys over too. I got down on my knees to be eye level with them and apologized.

“That wasn’t right. I’m sorry. I love you and I shouldn’t have talked to you like that. Will you forgive me?” I pleaded.

They are far more forgiving than I’m sure I deserve in those kinds of moments.

It isn’t easy being a parent. It’s not easy navigating through life sometimes as it is. Put the two together and you’re bound to have these kind of pileups. While the collisions happen, it is important to make a conscious decision to own it when you’ve done something wrong. When you didn’t handle a situation the way you should have. It is important for your child to see you take responsibility and apologize. It’s important because they’re taking their cues from you at how to do this life thing. And to be honest, that in and of itself scares me at times. I’ve had a lot of ups and downs in my life and I don’t always react or respond perfectly. But that’s good for them to see too! It’s good for them to see that perfection isn’t the goal. Relationship and reconciliation is the goal. I’m fine with them knowing they’re going to screw up and mess up and make bad choices and that’s how they’re going to learn how things go. But I also want them to know the value in recognizing foul attitudes and when you’re being so reactive to situations you leave a trail of casualties behind you. I want them to know its ok to be vulnerable with the people you love and you know love you. I’m still learning that one myself at 33.

I want to raise my children to be decent, loving, caring, compassionate, forgiving adults. If they’re going to be, I need to make sure those are the values I’m displaying as their father. To their mother, to them, to strangers, to whomever. I love my kids and sometimes I get pissed off at them. That’s not necessarily the problem. If I overreact and snap and treat them unfairly simply because I couldn’t keep myself cool, I want to own it and apologize so they know to do the same. I can’t expect something from them I’m not willing to do myself.

The question isn’t whether you’re going to lose it or not, but rather, what are you going to do about it when you do? What are you displaying for your children to absorb and relate to? They will reflect that into the world.

I love my kids enough to want to make sure my relationship with them remains intact. And not only that, but thriving and healthy. In order to do that, in order to do that in any relationship, forgiveness is key. But I can’t expect them to forgive me if I don’t ask for it. I should be willing to humble myself and recognize that I screwed up and apologize because they didn’t deserve to be talked to that way. Kids are resilient, yes, but only until they learn enough times that they aren’t worth my apology and should just stay out of my way. Then their spirit and vitality for life begins to fade and I’ve failed at the most important job I’ll ever have. I don’t plan to do that.

My encouragement to all you parents is to recognize when you’re reacting out of your own shit. Recognize the times when you’re only pissed off at them because you couldn’t maintain control. Recognize the times when you’re struggling through something at work or the house or bills or whatever is outside of the realm of concern for your children, and you take it out on them. Own it. Apologize. Ask for forgiveness. Reconcile, and they’ll know to do the same in life when it’s inevitably their turn.