I adore my children. I love them. I would give my life up for them (and I kind of have.) I would do whatever I could possibly do to spare them even half of what I have been through. But there are certain things that I will not do.
- I will not enable them. I will encourage them and always have their backs (Ride or Die, bitch!) but I will not ever, ever, ever pretend that if something they are doing is wrong is okay. I will call them out, bitch them out, talk it out but I will not allow it to be swept under the rug along with the Cheerios and small Lego blocks. Sorry kids, not sorry.
- I will not let them be in charge of the radio. Nope, ain’t happening. I have listened to every Taylor Swift, Katy Perry, Minecraft, Disney song that has occupied #6 for the last two years. I enjoy music and will give almost any artist a listen (except for Barry Manilow, no can do.) but when mommy is driving, it should be mommy choosing what to listen to. There are exceptions: crying child, you get to listen to something if you stop crying. Whiny child, prepare to listen to the excellence that is The Bangles.
- I will not stop swearing. I have an extensive vocabulary. Hell, I can even spell most of the words that I use. My verbiage has game. However, I have quite the colorful commentary and while I try to curb it, in the immortal words of Miley Cyrus, we can’t stop, we won’t stop. I know enough social decorum to not sound like a Quentin Tarantino movie in front of the grandparents and I try my best to not curse when I am picking up the kids from school in front of the other parents, but sometimes a girl just has to not give a fluck.
- I will not let my kids dictate to me. Okay, this one is a little harder. When you have a toddler, they dictate everything. From what you eat, to what you wear, to how much sleep you get. This is the one time that kids get to dictate. But after that stage: huh uh, no way. #5 is the king of trying to dictate his way through the family and #6 is the queen. They think that they get to tell me what they are going to do and when they are going to do it. It’s not really working out that well for them and #5 just finished serving a week of restriction because of it. Next time, do the dishes when you’re told to, not when you feel like it (seriously, you can’t load a dishwasher because you’re in the middle of a match? Nope, game over.) #6 is learning that mommy is serious about how she has to sleep in her own room. Daddy is learning that mommy is also serious about this. Yep, I see you two conspiring.
- I will not allow my children to be brats. Now, every kid is a brat. It’s true. Your perfect angel is never always perfect. My kids can be brats, they can be the biggest pains in the ass I’ve ever seen. I don’t reward that behavior. If you throw a fit, you don’t get your way. You get a time out. In the case of the older kids, you get no internet. If it continues, you get grounded. #2 was grounded for 6 months in high school from his cellphone. He only had it for one day. If #6 or #7 are acting up when we are out in public it is not a reason to sit there and ignore it or appease it. You get a trip to the bathroom or outside to the car.
- I will tolerate a certain amount of sass. I am a smart ass. I am sarcastic and dare I say, snarky. I cannot expect my children to not have inherited this from me. What I do expect is for them to know the difference between expressing yourself and crossing a line. I always say that my kids can disagree with me, but they will not disrespect me. My idea of disrespect may be different than others so when my kid responds with a really snappy comeback and I try to not laugh and don’t punish them, I am recognizing that their sass is worthy.
I am not perfect. My kids are not perfect. I am a work in progress as are my children. Sometimes the work is on schedule and going smoothly and sometimes the work is messy and you wouldn’t hire us again. Today, we are on schedule.