As I sit here, writing this post, I’m eating Cheddar and Sour Cream Ruffles (should be a sponsor, but they aren’t) and peppermint bark, because isn’t that a classic and classy combination? I’m drinking water, but that’s only because I’m too lazy to make coffee and I don’t have any Cherry Coke in the house. I guess what I’m trying to say is: I’m a mess.
To be fair, I know I’m not as messy as some people. I don’t do drugs. I drink, but I don’t get drunk (nursing, and all). I have a job. I’m actually pretty good at adulting. But at times, I’m pretty indistinguishable from the teenagers that I teach. My son is starting to get to the age where I worry about him adopting some of my bad habits and guilty pleasures.
Not that any of you are under the delusion that I’m perfect, but in case you were, here are few things I’m worried about:
Junk Food
I fucking love junk food. Never let me go grocery shopping while hungry, because my cart will look like it was filled by a fat, stoned, 15-year-old boy. Totino’s pizza rolls? Yes. Vanilla Coke? Of course. Cap’n Crunch? Abso-fuckin-lutely. If I didn’t have to cook for two other adults and a toddler, my diet would be 90% chicken nuggets and 10% Haagen Dazs Peanut Butter & Chocolate (and in the process of Googling how to spell “Haagen Dazs,” I’ve just discovered they have a flavor called Midnight Chocolate Cookies and now if you’ll excuse me I have to go to the market).
Real talk: my kid has a Fiber One brownie for breakfast every morning. It started as a way to keep him regular when he was potty training, and now he just likes them and I’m lazy. We regularly bribe him with candy, and he shares my affinity for chicken nuggets and white rice with butter. Or anything with butter. Or just butter.
So clearly I have reason to worry about my own arteries, as well as his, and eventually my daughter’s. I know that 90% of the time we eat very healthy, balanced meals. My husband has taught me that a potato does not count as a “vegetable.”
Because of him, I’ve definitely gotten better at adding color and nutrition to our meals since we’ve been living together. But this is also a man who regularly eats Sour Patch Watermelons and Peanut Butter M&Ms, so, ya know, grain of salt.
I guess I understand that it’s okay to have balance, and it’s okay to indulge, but right now I just worry about whether that message is getting across to H. We try to tell him he has to eat things that are good for his “bones and squishy parts,” but he’s pretty into cheese pizza and whole milk. He does like things like fresh berries, the occasional broccoli, and various types of lean meats, but he comes from a long line of beige eaters and I want him to have an adventurous palate and healthy habits for his own sake.
Television/Screen Time
I’m not about to get into a screen time debate with anybody. I’ve read the studies; I believe the science, but I also know that I was raised on heavy doses of 80s and 90s screen time and I turned out just fine.
Like any good millennial, I’m pretty addicted to my phone. Business, social, logistical, I’m not going to pretend like being connected online is not important to me. I mean, I run a fucking online blog. But, I’d also be lying if I didn’t admit that I was a little bit worried when my then one-year-old new how to swipe to open the iPad. At first it was cute, but then I was worried.
The problem is, I love TV. The first things I do when I get downstairs is make coffee and turn on the TV. It’s actually weird to me if something isn’t playing in the background. And 99% of the time I fall asleep listening to TV with my phone tucked under my pillow. So when my three-year-old comes up to me and says, “Mommy can I watch a show?” I have a really hard time saying no, If that’s all I want to do also.
As a way to mitigate this, I’ve taken to playing music instead of TV. A Footloose morning dance party is now a regular occurrence in our house. While it would be easier for me to kick back and watch Food Network while he watches Octonauts, nothing beats watching my kid rock out to Kenny Loggins.
Television will always be part of our family, and I’m okay with that. But when my kids starts zoning out and shushing me because he can’t hear his show (WTF, kid?), I know it’s time to put the iPad away for a while.
Procrastination
My husband and I are both guilty of procrastination, but it manifests differently in each of us. Which basically means, our kids are fucked. His issue lies in basic household tasks like dishes, laundry, and the like. This man is the king of putting laundry on the bed so he “has to fold it before we go to bed,” then gingerly tossing that clean laundry onto the floor, where it casually mingles with the dirty clothes I just removed from myself.
My procrastination, I’m fairly sure, is rooted in my anxiety. If I’m worried about something, I mentally bury it. I put it off and set it aside until I absolutely cannot take it anymore, at which point I complete it and curse myself for taking so damn long.
H doesn’t have defined chores yet, just helping us generally, so when he does, I know it’s going to be an exercise in follow through for all of us. I don’t want him getting the impression that it’s okay to shirk his responsibilities, even if the only person he’s responsible to is himself.
Overall, I’ve become increasingly aware of how plastic kids are and how closely my kids are watching me. All it takes is one instance of a three-year-old saying “What the fuck?” for me to realize I should probably watch my mouth. I realized he chews his fingers as a nervous habit like his dad. He’s a tiny us. The good us and the bad us.
Ultimately, I know we’ll all be okay, even if the kids end up with our flaws. I worry in the moment, but I know that at the end of the day, it’s more important that H and Little G are nice than anything else. And while that’s still something I have to work on from time to time, I’m not as worried about that, and that helps.
What bad habits are you worried about passing on? What tips do you have for me? Leave it in the comments!