The Battle of Raising Kids: How Parents Become War Heroes

Unprepared and inexperienced, they enlist. Eagerly reporting for duty, they're clean and shiny, willing and worthy. Amidst plenty of fanfare, and before they've finished their first salute, they're promoted to commander-in-chief. They are the proud, the brave, the about to become eternally sleep deprived.

Their commitment and endurance will be tested repeatedly as their duties begin immediately and include everything from scrubbing latrines to bomb disposal. Their uniforms are frequently wrinkled, usually mismatched, and only occasionally stain-free. Their combat boots are almost always untied.

Praising the courageous with one hand, and punishing the naughty with the other, they become true leaders, tough enough to vanquish neighborhood bullies, but gentle enough to kiss boo-boos. They will sometimes curse or sigh impatiently, but they will always read that same bedtime story just one more time every single night.

Early in their career, still unqualified and inept, they learn to improvise, doctoring the wounded, supporting the weak, and training the uncooperative. They're responsible for requisitioning and distributing essential supplies including, but not limited to, endless pairs of clean underwear and bottomless bowls of chicken soup.

They hatch and implement effective battle plans, entering unknown situations, barefoot and under cover of darkness, to banish monsters in the closet. Often, they find themselves in dangerous territory where they don't understand the local language or customs. But surrounded and outnumbered, they persevere in their attempt to conquer, communicate, and compromise. Occasionally, they blow up, but since they're also the only source of funds for reconstruction, they try not to do any permanent damage.

Day and night, 365 days a year, they are on duty. Weekend furloughs are non-existent and the mess hall and infirmary are always open, just like their wallets. They understand they will never be promoted, never earn an honorable discharge or a purple heart, and never stop sleeping with one eye open. They won't always win the wars, but they'll march on through blood, sweat, tears, and spilled milk, because giving up isn't an option. When they struggle to keep the faith, they take comfort in the fact that a sticky kiss will fully prepare them for the next battle. They have, after all, enlisted for the love, not the glory.

Parents support, protect, defend and pretend they don't exist during puberty. Then, having done their best to prepare their solders for life, they hug them goodbye, and send them off to fight battles in their own back yards and wars far away. A parent's only weapon is hope; their only ally, faith. Sending care packages from home, they might fill them with love and cookies, or toothpaste and toilet paper, but they always have the same prayer tucked inside - just one - more time.