The Joy of Parenting

I recently read an article online stating that studies were finding that people with children were reporting they were less happy than their childless counterparts. And when people reached the "empty nester" age, there was little difference in the happiness reported among those with grown children and those without. The article went on to discuss if the "joys of parenting" were simply a myth, created by parents to cope with the stress of child rearing. I started to ponder this idea... I certainly am not going to claim that motherhood is all smiles and a walk down easy street. I am certainly not always happy; although, I've said before, I am a glass-half-empty girl. Part of my unhappiness is my own doing. There is plenty about raising two young boys that is anything but fun and certainly unglamorous. Since I continue to make it through each day, I have obviously learned to function on less sleep, but I will never learn to be OK with it. The whining drives me insane. And the rowdiness and roughness of two boys is often a little more than this quiet, likes-to-read-books, mom can handle. The worrying that accompanies parenting is exhausting. And don't even get me started on how much those little monsters cost... However, until I read this article, along with the impressive statistics about happiness levels in it, the idea had never occurred to me that maybe I was just blindly believing the long perpetuated myth that children were "worth it." I started to wonder if my unhappiness was really rooted in my decision to be a parent. Maybe those messy miniature human beings taking over my house were the root of everything that was wrong, and *GASP*, a mistake. Then I looked over at my large collection of pictures of those little people. The ones I frame and display where I can see them because they make me smile and make me feel better when I am unhappy. I started to think about each of them and the moments that have made up their short little lives so far. I thought about the time we had to take Jack to the ER because of a bad case of croup, and I remembered the overwhelming flood of relief when they got him a breathing treatment and a dose of steroids and he started breathing normally again. I remembered my long, hard delivery of Brett, and that as soon as the doctor handed him to me, I completely forgot about the pain and the wreck my body was at that moment. I thought of Jack's laugh. I thought of Brett's smile. I thought about all the times they have made me smile, and laugh, and cry tears of joy and pride. Maybe for some people, the joy of parenting is a myth. I see plenty of parents that choose themselves over their kids; that work long hours all week and then pay babysitters to watch their kids on the weekend. I've never wanted to make that choice. A good Friday night is t-ball practice and a frozen pizza. For me, parenting is a joy. Not every minute, and sometimes not even every day. But I have to believe there are those huge moments which flood me with emotion that more than make up for the days when they drive me crazy and when I wish I could just get some sleep. Today is a Happy Mother's Day. And overall, most every other day is, too!