Perfect Parenting

Lately, it's struck me, and hard, that I'm not the greatest Dad in the world. I lose my temper too easily. I'm too selfish with my time. I look forward to bedtime (their's and mine) too much. My kids know at the young age of two that my favorite "movie" is football. 

Don't get me wrong, I love my kids so much that it hurts, but Dad of the Year I'm not. The scary part about this realization is that I know parenting will only get harder. 

My kids are only four, two and nine months. They're well fed and don't miss out on much, but I wonder, what am I doing already that's going to cause one of them to go down the wrong path? 

Is my screaming at Gracie to be quiet after she asks me the same question for the 12th time the first dent in her psyche that begins a long tumultuous path toward a bitter conclusion of being a high school dropout and a doper? 

If I'm too cross with Anita Beth in front of my kids will they be forever scarred from having a heterosexual relationship?

If they can tell that I'm tired and just want them to go to bed tonight will they eventually resent me and spend the afternoons locked in their rooms chatting with some nose-pierced freak  on the internet? 

Through my law practice, family, friendships and acquaintances I know many parents who are great parents and did everything right, or at least close to right, whose children went down a rebellious path, got kicked out of school, sent to rehab, or even jail. What could their parents have possibly done wrong? What can I learn from, so I don't repeat their mistake?

The really scary part - maybe they didn't do anything wrong. Maybe they were God-fearing, model parents. 

Right now, my biggest problem is getting the three little lady-scrappers packed for church or school. One day they'll have friends or at least know kids that smoke marijuana and hate their parents. Who am I kidding, for all I know my kids may be the ones doing drugs and dropping out of school. Maybe, God forbid, one of them will even hate me. 

In order to avoid this tragedy, tonight, I'm going to go home and be the perfect Dad. 

Yeah, right. That'll last 20 minutes or until Gracie knocks her cup off the table for the 8th time, or until I come down the stairs from brushing teeth and find the dog rolling around on an open, very dirty diaper. YUCK! (Happened last night).

Nevermind. Scratch that the perfect Dad plan. Tonight, I'm going to go home and pray. Alot.