I find myself compromising my children’s future, and surprisingly, I’m okay with it. Don’t misunderstand me; it’s not my intention to set them up for failure. But I’ve come to terms with the fact that I may be making a variety of parenting missteps. It seems almost unavoidable, as I believe every parent has inadvertently impacted their children in some way. (Except for my mom. If you’re reading this, I’m not referring to you. And when you call to ask what I meant, just know—I truly meant it.)
I recognize my failures, and I’ve reached a point of acceptance. Instead of a college fund, perhaps a therapy fund would be a more practical investment.
For instance, my youngest has had formula. Yes, formula—an absolute lifesaver, yet still, it feels wrong. They both watch television. I hesitate to reveal just how much, as opinions vary widely; some would think it’s minimal, while others would be appalled at the amount. Let’s just say my oldest frequently sings jingles from a beloved children’s show, and I fear those catchy tunes will echo in their minds for years to come.
I’m not particularly fond of television. I’ve read countless articles detailing its negative effects on children, and I completely agree. Yet, I still allow them to watch. I won’t sugarcoat it—I’ve even strapped them into their high chairs, turned on a show, and used that time to take a shower. At least it’s PBS, right?
Now, about vegetables—I was well-informed before becoming a parent. I knew to eat healthily during pregnancy and nursing, to puree fresh veggies, and to repeatedly expose my kids to various greens. I envisioned a future where my two-year-old would request organic heirloom carrots at the farmer’s market. Unfortunately, I fizzled out around the 14th attempt, and the last time my kids intentionally ate a non-potato vegetable was during Thanksgiving, and even then, it was only the crust of the pumpkin pie.
As for foreign languages, my children haven’t been exposed to any, aside from the French slang I picked up during my school days. Like most boys, they’re fascinated with vehicles, so if you hear them yelling “Truck!” or “Ship!” that’s the context.
I’ve read numerous articles titled something like “Parenting: You’re Doing it Wrong.” While I know it’s clickbait, I can’t resist diving into research that outlines how I’m failing in my parenting journey. I’ve attempted both working and staying home, which means my kids are likely to suffer from a blend of neglect and over-attentiveness. My apologies, little ones.
It’s not that I lack the desire to improve. I read those parenting tips (often on my phone while my kids are nearby), and I try to implement changes—if only for a fleeting 20 minutes. I genuinely wish for them to watch less television, consume more veggies, and grow into well-adjusted individuals. However, I struggle to make it all work. Despite my guilt, I have yet to purchase a single educational toy made from organic kale.
If these choices ultimately shape their future in a negative way, I can live with that. Every parent makes mistakes, and I hope this is the extent of mine. When my sons inevitably call me in two decades to express how I’ve hindered their lives, I can only hope it’s due to my leniency with their screen time, leading to a lifelong attachment to a catchy children’s song.
They can list all the ways I’ve fallen short, and I know there will be more failures to come as they grow. That’s simply part of parenting.
However, one thing I excel at is loving them unconditionally. My love for them burns fiercely, as bright as the sun itself. They are my world, my everything.
So if a little extra TV and fewer vegetables are my biggest transgressions, I’m at peace with that. They will always feel loved. And if letting go of some worries allows me to devote even more love to them, I’ll choose that path every time.
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In summary, while I may not have all the answers in parenting, my unwavering love for my children remains constant. If minor choices are the worst I do, I can accept that.
Keyphrase: compromising children’s future
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