Being a parent can be a wonderful and life-changing experience. While wanting to teach and inspire my children, I’ve realised that I’ve learned as much from them as I hope they have learned from me. Perhaps it’s part of the plan.
Over the years there are some essential things my children have taught me. These lessons are all gifts in some form, worth sharing.
I have learned that when washing clothes and checking laundry, it’s best never to plunge my hand into the trouser pockets of my boys. There were dead things in them… Or things that were best retrieved with tongs.
I’ve learned that if something took me several hours to cook, my children wouldn’t like it. A direct correlation between effort and results. The more time I spent on something, the more they hated it.
On the other hand, if the food looks disgusting and is full of additives, chances are my children loved it. They also requested the meal more often.
I’ve learned that with babies in the first few months, it was best never to wear a clean dress without first placing a towel over myself. My children were guaranteed to throw up on me on any time I’d forgotten. This especially happened as we were getting ready to leave the house.
If you feel like death and have to face three children at dinner time, like I did, I’ve learned that I should be prepared to feel a whole lot worse. My children had a sixth sense and would take advantage at the first sign of weakness. With that in mind, the night one has too many wines is the night one will get gastro, and I’ve learned that children will show no mercy.
Unless you nag your children 24 hours a day, I’ve learned that the dirty sports clothes are never found until at least 30 minutes before school.
I’ve learned that your daughters can become your best friends, but only once they have gone through the teenage years and have survived.
If only I had kept all those miniskirts, boots or flares. My daughter could have used them, as I learned that somewhere along the way those fashions will come back.
I’ve learned that the dirtiest looking jeans or the jacket with a tear in it will be the one my children want. The ones that are made this way are also the ones that cost and arm and a leg to buy.
My children never really believed that I was once young. I’ve learned that although it is a fact, my children seemed to think I came into the world as a 30-something.
I’ve learned that by the time I could laugh at the same jokes as my children or enjoy the same wine, many of my body parts were starting to wear out. I noticed a distinct increase in conversations about retirement villages, too.
Finally, by the time I realised I knew it, and my children thought they did, they were all grown up.