I have some pretty amazing kids. And I bet you do, too. If you’re like me, (and if that’s the case, I’m sorry) you probably want the best for your children. If you could give them the world on a platter, save them from every heartache and protect them from every evil, you would. And the knowledge that you can’t do any of that is both gut-wrenching and humbling.
At a certain point, they will fall, both physically and emotionally. The greatest gift we can give them is to teach them how to get back up. From that first bloody mouth earned by an unsteady toddler, to the first broken friendship of those awkward tween years, we want to fix all things for them. But when it happens again – and it will happen again – they have to figure out how to pick themselves up, brush themselves off and go seek their revenge upon the cause of their misery. No, I’m just kidding. Sort of. But really, at the end of the day, they will be the only ones who can find their own happiness.
And that happiness will be, and should be, different for everyone. That’s been a real epiphany for me. I think most of us Gen Xers were taught that success means having it all: the big house, the prestigious job, the perfect spouse, and the adorable children.
Not that these things don’t equal happiness for some, but in reality, a big house just takes longer to clean. I’m already sighing as I walk past the layers of dust building up in my nine-room home. More than that might bring me to the edge of a full-blown depression. And don’t give me that, “if you cleaned regularly your kids couldn’t leave you messages in the dust” crap. If they have the time to write the message, they have the time to dust it themselves.
As for working, we spend 13 years of our children’s early lives preparing them for their career. From fighting over the value of reading Huck Finn to explaining that there are actual jobs where you need to know algebra, many of us spend 10 months of each year making lunches, washing uniforms and dealing with the PTSD that comes with the science fair.
The hope is that all of this basic knowledge will help point them in the direction of their dream jobs: the careers that will keep them getting out of bed each morning — for 40-something years – with smiles on their faces. But let me ask you this, have you ever met anyone who is happy to go to work, every single day?
When my husband was fishing for a living, a hobby that long-ago became an unhealthy obsession, he started to hate it. He hated the thing that he loves more than anything in the world.
Maybe we should just tell our kids to find work that they enjoy and that is fulfilling. But don’t expect to love it all the time. Some days, you’ll just want to call your boss and tell him you can’t make it in because you’re trapped in an avalanche.
Then there is the whole idea of the perfect spouse. It is so completely ridiculous, to the point of being cruel. Why do we tell children that there is a happily ever after? Why don’t we say things like, “You may love this person with every fiber of your soul. They may help you feel whole in a way that no one ever has and fill you with a passion that cannot be quenched. But when they’ve left dirty socks on the radiator for the 20th time, you will experience a rage that you did not you were capable of achieving and you will think of numerous ways to torture them.” That’s not just me, right?
The cool thing about that is, if you can learn to pick up the socks and throw them in the wash (and it may take 27 years to learn to do this 18 percent of the time), your spouse may learn to turn a blind eye to your ridiculous temper tantrums, where you accuse them of starting the 100 Years War, causing slavery and inventing menstruation.
I mean, our kids live with us for around 18-40 years before they go out on their own. They’ve witnessed these exchanges. We’re not fooling anyone with that “happily ever after” ridiculousness.
And that brings us to the adorable children. Having adorable children is never a bad idea. Unless you don’t want kids. Unless you can’t imagine getting up in the middle of the night to perform a full-house, armed, sweep for monsters and/or zombies and make a video whilst doing it, so there is photographic evidence that you’ve not been overrun by the undead. Unless wearing your heart outside your body, for every second of every day, letting it get poked, prodded and torn to shreds by well-meaning family, sad and nasty soccer moms, and even (or, especially) your own child. Unless you can’t stand the idea that you spend 18 years preparing them for life, only to let them go.
As a mother, I can affirm that there is no greater joy than holding your baby for the first time. As a mother, I can also affirm that there are times you will want to give that screaming, soulless being to the first stranger who happens to walk by. And as a best friend of a woman who chose not to have children (I know, you probably have an opinion about that, everyone does) I can affirm that you can also have a complete, joyful, exciting, rewarding and loving life, without having children.
Here’s what I’ve decided to tell my kids about this crazy roller-coaster ride that someone thought it would be funny to dump us on: be happy.
First, you’ll need to figure out what that means to you. Maybe it is the big house, prestigious job, blah blah blah. You won’t be alone. You’ll find a lot of other people traveling that path, too, looking for the pot of gold at the end of their rainbow. And for the love of all that is good and holy, I hope you find yours. I hope you find it and use it to make your world a better place, and to make the whole world a better place, while you’re at it.
But if you decide happy means something else, that’s ok, too. Dad and I won’t mind visiting you on that tropical island where you subsistence farm and fish for extra cash with your beach dog. I’ll even pull some weeds while I’m there. As long as you make me a mango bellini. With fresh mango juice, none of that canned junk. For God’s sake, you live on a tropical island. Doesn’t your only mother deserve some fresh mango juice??
This whole life thing isn’t easy. And it isn’t long, either. In that fleeting time, do something beautiful. Love someone amazing. Build something strong. Because none of us get out of here alive. Make it worth it.
When I visit my beach child and grand-dog on the tropical island, I think I want to sleep in a hammock. I’ll send these instructions along, a few weeks before my visit. Bob Vila has a few ideas, but I think I like Design Sponge’s best.
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Laurie Nigro, is the mother of two biological children and one husband. She also takes care of a menagerie of animals that leave throw-up around for her to step in in the middle of the night. Laurie’s passionate about frugal, natural living, which is a nice way of saying she’s a kombucha-brewing, incense-burning, foodie freak who tries really hard not to spend money on crap made by child laborers. You can hear her rant about her muse (aka husband) and other things that have no bearing on your life, in this space each Sunday.
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