Our Kids Don't Understand Us: And I Don't Want Them To

As Moms, we do everything. We take care of our little ones. We make sure that they have lunch when they go to school, that there is enough for their friends when we get pizza. We make a cozy home, a place that our children look forward to going at the end of their long day at school. We thrive on taking care of our children. But there are times when we wish they knew what it was like to be us.

Recently, I saw a picture of a little boy wearing his mommy's shoes. I got to thinking. What if they really could be in our shoes for just a day?

They would know what worry really meant. I can remember my mother always getting so worried, and I would think she was over reacting; we had so many fights about that! They would worry every second they were not with us. They would sit at home or work wondering if we were hungry, cold, happy, or had on clean socks and underwear.

They would know what it was like to have to say no to going to the school play because they have to work. A true understanding of disappointment would suddenly fall on their shoulders. Work ethic would have to come before family sometimes, and they may not understand that, ever. But they will do it, and watch their babies cry because they missed the big game, the big show, the best field trip ever.

The importance of name brands would be gone, and price would be more important than the name on the back of the jeans. They really would turn off every light when they walk out of a room, turn the music down, and take mopping the floors seriously. The car would be clean, the dog would be fed, and the crisis of the week would not be whether they look cool.

They would finally know what it is like to be us. They would appreciate every sacrifice we make, every day we take off work for them, every meal we prepare. They would understand that we don't look cool and popular because we are breaking the budget to make them look cool and popular. They would be proud of us.

Sometimes, I get frustrated that my daughter does not thank me, or show much appreciation. I do homework with her, I stayed home for years and sacrificed an adult life to watch her shows and go to the Library. I coach her cheerleading team; I go to every game, every concert, and every parent night. I sacrifice more than she knows, I do her hair every day, and I have difficult talks with her. If only she could be me, for just one day. I used to think that way. But I stopped.

You might wonder why. Because if she knew everything I know, if she knew every sacrifice, she wouldn't want it anymore. She wouldn't be so happy to have everything. She would feel guilty, and the innocence and joy in her smile would fade. Her smile would become forced and mature, and the beautiful smile that I see every day would be seen less and less.

No, I do not want my children to walk a mile in my shoes, ever. They deserve their childhood. They should expect me to make sacrifices and be there every step of the way while they are growing up. It is important to me that their innocence and joy is preserved as long as possible. I grew up too fast; I would not wish that on my children.

So, before you want them to understand your pain, your frustration, your sacrifices think about it. Do you really want them to understand? Do you really want them to know? Would it help anything? Would it make them happy, or just relieve your frustration. No, you do not want them to understand. Let them make a mess, let them ignore you, let them be so naïve and innocent that it is cute. Let them be kids. One day, they will get it. It will click, they will thank you, and they will do the same for their kids.

Keep your shoes on your own feet, and let your babies grow into them in their own time. For that, they will be forever grateful. Trust me, I know.