I work at an arcade. I go to work every day and it seems like I can woo any tiny kiddo into the darkness of laser tag. They go in trembling, on the verge of tears, and they come out bouncing around, ready for me to turn the mind-boggling loud music on.
I cuddle little crying cuties who've lost their siblings, their new crappy toy or candy and I feel productive. I feel awesome that I can help anyone's kids.
I teach parents the I Feel Statements. "I feel _______ when you ________ because ______ and what I need is _________." It helps them be better parents. All the parenting books and classes and research bubbles up within me and I feel like a brimming fount of parenting awesomeness! . . .
Until I get home.
When I'm looking up how to teach kids how to wipe with peanut butter to teach my 10 yr old something I thought she got down, 5-7 years ago, when she was 3-5 years old and still potty training, I feel pretty bad about myself.
When I come home and my 2 yr old with her chronic anger is slapping her sisters and her father, I feel all of my awesomeness drain right out of my toes, seeping through the floor and into the ground, so deeply beneath our home that I can never hope to even imagine of getting it back. It's like I never put years into being the good parent I feel like I am when I'm not around my own, adorable kiddos.
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