I am always amazed by those parents that claim to be ‘friends’ with their children. Not only because I feel it is inappropriate to be friends with your child until they are adults themselves (that’s a whole ‘nother post), but also because I just don’t get it. Why on earth would I want to be friends with these people? Nothing but a bit of real life parenting today, my friends!
Listen up. Part of what’s so great about being a grown-up is the ability to determine who you want in your life, right? You get to freely share FB posts with beautiful nature scenes and serene music that talk about standing up for yourself, letting your past go and walking away from the negativity and naysayers. Saying ‘Adios!’ to those who bring you down so you can prove to the entire social media world that you are done being a walking door mat. Now that you’re mature and wiser, you will opt to surround yourself with those who build you up and support you, and you don’t owe anyone an apology for that, thank you very much!
Yet, YET, every evening you sit alongside miniature faces strangely resembling your own that silently try to kill you with death stares across the dining room table. You subject yourself to verbal assault due to the amount of vegetables that are in the Banquet Pot-Pie or because of the lack of halved cherries in the can of mixed fruit. You are degraded because of your inability to fix the broken banana or un-smoosh the smooshed cereal bar. I mean, can you do anything?!
The whole vibe of your morning depends entirely on the mood of the awakening cherubic spawn of satan. Did she toss and turn last night? Is her blanket covering her left foot the full 77% she dictates, allowing her right foot to freely rest on top of the blanket all while simultaneously covering the entire rest of her little body and folded neatly under her chin as she prefers? Is her strawberry milk mixed to perfection in her favorite heart cup at her favorite place at the breakfast bar for when she’s ready to drink it? Seriously – what have you done all morning?!
And don’t even get me started on the inability to act properly around their friends. Tips for raising a preteen and/or teen: Joking around is embarrassing. Questions are embarrassing. Conversation is embarrassing. You speaking at all, in any way, is embarrassing. Your shirt is embarrassing (I don’t even know what you are currently wearing, but it’s embarrassing). Pretty much anything about you is embarrassing. And if you are not fully “in the know” about why she’s upset after all of the non-talking you’ve done with her (I mean, obviously it’s because Joey told her that Betty and Judy said to Sam who told Ricky (in front of the entire 7th period class) that her shirt was teal. It’s totally turquoise. NO ONE wears teal!) – don’t you even care about her life?!
All of this and more, and still you continue to hug them even though you would receive a warmer response by cuddling the tree in the backyard. Your kisses are typically taken by force, which doesn’t bode well at all, but you do it everyday, multiple times a day because you apparently have some major mommy issues. Your choice to love these stinkers even when their reception to your love is frostier than Elsa’s storm on the fjord is not even debatable. They are truly your people. Your tribe. They were handcrafted by you.
But you want to be ‘friends’ with these smaller humans?
No thanks. I don’t need that sort of negativity in my life.