Let it groooo-oow...
My theme song for this blog.
Which has grown! Thank you so much for sharing and reading. A friend told me yesterday that she was stalking me on my blog. Well, I say, stalk away. I'm flattered.
Totally random and completely unrelated to anything else. I'm just sitting here singing it, and you know how that song gets stuck in everyone's head. (Sorry.)
I dragged my daughter to a church event last night. "I'll be there only kid there," she said as we walked in. But I know she secretly enjoys these events and wouldn't miss them, even though she accused me of not singing during worship time the previous Sunday (um, you can't sing if you don't know the song, missy) and then went on to say that she thought it was weird that people would just stand there during church and not sing (don't look at me, I whisper sing when the lyrics are familiar, and the reason I whisper sing is so that when there is a break in the singing but the music keeps playing I won't be that person who's (not the time for the grammar police, people) lone voice continues on with the melody--WHICH HAS HAPPENED TO ME, true story, at an event such as was held last night and I wanted the floor to open up and SWALLOW ME and transport me to my car where I could quickly and silently leave covered in humiliation and embarrassment--also, I am not a good singer). But then she stood there the whole time we were all singing (yes, me included, especially after the aforementioned comment) and wouldn't open her mouth, and I just thought uh-huh, yep, that's right, look at you. Not singing.
Yesterday, I said that one day we would eat the rest of our blueberry and blackberry syrups. People, today is that day. Because that's all there was. No other choices. And it occurred to me: I am part of the problem, and now I get to be part of the solution. I make the choices at the store and set them down in front of my kids mouths. I (largely) determine what they will eat. I buy the syrup when we still have perfectly good syrup sitting in the fridge.
As parents, we profoundly influence out kids. And kids, as my doctor pointed out to me today, do not appreciate hypocrisy, even if they themselves are big ole masters of deceit.
Let your yes be yes and your no be no.
This is not easy. Sometimes it's much, much easier to be friends than to be parents. I've fallen in that trap before, where it was just easier to go along with my head stuck in the sand than it was to take a stand.
My doctor also pointed out to me (we had quite the convo about kids before we got around to the reason I was actually there) that kids do not need a friend. They have plenty of indecisive, trying-too-hard-to-be-cool friends at school. They need a parent. Yes, she said, sometimes a parent to blame. A parent to be irreverent to. A parent to complain to and act out to and fall on the floor in a heap of frustration in front of. A parent to guide them in this oftentimes confusing, messed up world.
That's a whole lotta responsibility, y'all.
They come back, my doctor promised me. Girls and boys. After they hate you, they love you. Besides, she said, a boy has to leave his mother's side and enter into a man's world, because what do you think of a 35-year-old man who is still attached to his mother?
That's a good question, Dr. C.