Voices
forms of corporal punishment were
far more widespread. Fathers were
distant and uncommunicative.
Everyone smoked in front of their
kids. Seat belts were for pussies. And if parents had any kind
of problem with their child, they
didn’t have the Internet on hand
to help find a solution, or at least
a sympathetic ear. We have that
now, and it makes us better. No
parents I know suffer a kid’s shitty
eating habits for long. They’re willing to look for help right away, and
they can find it, and that matters.
That counts for something. We’re
not that bad, I swear. But the stereotype shrouds all of that.
We even hear the stereotype
from fellow parents. We’re constantly judging and grading other
parents, just to make sure that
they aren’t any better than us.
I’m as guilty as anyone. I see some
lady hand her kid a Nintendo DS
at the supermarket and I instantly
downgrade that lady to Shitty Parent status. I feel pressure to live
up to a parental ideal that no one
probably has ever achieved. I feel
pressure to raise a group of human
beings that will help America kick
the shit out of Finland and South
Korea in the world math rankings. I
feel pressure to shield my kids from
DREW
MAGARY
the trillion pages of hentai donkey
porn out there on the Internet. I
feel pressure to make the insane
amounts of money needed for a
supposedly “middle-class” upbringing for the kids, an upbringing that includes a house and college tuition and health care and so
many other expenses that you have
to be a multimillionaire to afford it.
PRESSURE PRESSURE PRESSURE.
And the worst part is that none
of those external forces can begin
to match the pressure I bring to
bear on myself.
Every time I have a fight with
my kids, I feel like I have to start
from scratch. I feel like I’ve tumbled back down the mountain, as
if all the good effort I’ve put in
before has gone to waste and I’ve
f*cked everything up permanently. All I want are streaks — little
runs of good parenting days. I
have a vision in my head of a never-ending streak — a time when
I have a perfect relationship with
my children that involves mutual
respect and lots of outward affection. I don’t know if that’s a real
thing or just some pipe dream that
only adds to the pressure.
After a particularly difficult incident, I composed myself and swore
I would never again throw gas on
HUFFINGTON
06.16.13