So I’m a Feisty Parent, What of It?

Incase you missed the note, I am a feisty parent. You’ve met them before, admit it. The ones that make snide comments about kids they see in the play ground. “That kid’s either gonna be a wrestler or a CEO the way she just pulled that kid’s hair out.” The parent who jumps at an opportunity for kid free time – every chance they get. The one who advises against over-population. That one.

What might be in the side lines, that invisible thing you can’t see, is that you don’t know who these people are. Using myself as an example, you might not be able to tell when I’m cracking a joke. Face it, I’m only a laugh a minute to Microsoft employees and bankers for a reason. Or you might have missed the fact that it’s *my* kid who is doing the WWE move on that poor boy who’s twice her size. I know my kid well enough to guess that either of those things could happen. I can see her adult self wearing six-inch heals and a stylish cat suit as her costume if the WWE courted her to kick some ass.

None the less. The population comments might still irk most. This would be that stupid thing I did called “going to college.” What was I thinking? I took a crazy mix of classes that basically laid out my view on having children. From economics to biology to statistics. A poisonous mix. By the time I was 26 I had determined I was NOT having kids. No way.

Sometimes this is all the Universe needs to hear to set that damn clock ticking. You see where this is going, don’t you?

Mm-hm. Then the hormones hit and voila! In six years time I had succumbed to that clock and given birth to not one but two bouncing baby girls. This coincided with my change of philosophy: Well, maybe two was okay.

Now I have them, and I’m here to tell you that the advertising on having children was written with the wrong ink. It lied to me! Lie: They will change you forever. It will be the best thing you ever did. You will be so happy you did it. These are the times you’ll look back on and be thankful for.

Wait a minute. All of those things are true. I think that the lies were more along the lines of omission.

No one told me how hard it would be. Or that not everyone is a natural parent. That there are husbands/partners out there that aren’t any more natural than their other half. So we had these tiny things and didn’t know what to do with them. “You change her diaper.” “No you.” “I don’t know how,” spoken in a quivering voice. Yup, that conversation, or a variation of it, really did happen when the first one, Bunny Wabbit came out and had her first dirty nappy.

Then there’s the “How do I get them to stop crying?” conversations that lasted for five years. Which turned into “How do I get them to stop talking?” followed quickly by “How do I get them to stop arguing with me over EVERYTHING?”

“So *that’s* why they run from their children at even the slightest provocation,” I can hear you say. You wouldn’t be wrong.

So what of it if I am feisty?

Here’s the thing. I love them to pieces. They are the light in my darkest days. I am a better person because of their existence. That said I can’t help but fear for their future thanks to that stupid community college education. Yes, it is still a big deal for me, that over-population thing. Every scary news article on the demise of our earth. The increasingly alarming leaders at our helm making disastrous decisions left and right. (No I’m not talking about health care. I love health care. Think of Texas. And right-wing conservatives.)

In my heart I know that not just my kiddlings, but every single one out there, will make a difference in this world. Big or small. Maybe they’ll find a way to make organic a normal part of our food process, like many other countries, instead of a feared one. Or maybe they’ll be that one thing for someone who pulls them through to the other side, like my husband and friends are for me. Or maybe they’ll just have their own survival TV show. Who knows?

That’s enough heavy talk for the time being, me thinks.

Is it Happy Hour yet? 🙂


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