It gets old, doesn’t it?
I’m not going to list for you the various difficulties and frustrations that led me to this post. Most likely you’ve got a similar list. If you’re anything like me, you’ve had that moment where you think, “Sheesh. How much longer do I have to do this? Why don’t they just get it?”
Assuming that a child is all grown up and matured by their 18th birthday (I decided to be generous in my terms), that means that we’ve got 18 complete years together. To look at it another way, that means
- 216 months
- 6570 days
- 157,680 hours
- 946,080 minutes or
- 567,648,000 seconds
That’s not short. This parenting gig is a long-term thing. Sometimes it feels like we’re never going to finish this journey, and like everything I do is a flop. The eye-rolling and frustrated sighs from my pre-teen children certainly don’t help.
Time marches on, and they move toward maturity every day. I just can’t always see it when I’m in so close. There will come a time when the conflict and struggles cease, and they take their places besides us as equals and friends.
Then they’ll have kids of their own, and I will be free to laugh when they find out why I’ve been ripping out my own hair all these years.
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Photo graciously provided by kaneda99, through a Creative Commons license, some rights reserved