Am I Doing It Wrong?
I think I might have been born in the wrong generation.
Either that, or I missed out on the memo clearly outlining all of the
neurotic hovering loving precautions one must take in order to keep their child alive and thriving in today’s world. My favourite Mother In Law and I have often laughed about my how my kids will likely be the ones riding their bikes without body armor, ringing the doorbells of other kids in the neighbourhood to see if they want to play. Sending my kids out the door with the instruction to be home by dinner and letting the dog be in charge of watching them.
Gone are the days of such freedoms. Children have to be strapped into a car seat until they’re old enough for Driver’s Ed. You have to arrange “play dates”. (Which I won’t even start to rant about because I’ll never fucking stop). Which means I potentially have to hang out with some shit ass parent I don’t like for the sake of my child.
Daycare. Never ending onslaught of extra curricular activities. Parent council. Volunteering for A,B,and C.
Don’t let them eat sugar. Or wheat. Or anything white. God forbid you have peanut butter for breakfast and then go to school and send someone elses kid to the hospital in anaphylactic shock. Bullying. Drugs.
Wait. What was the rule about car seats again?
Seriously. Was parenting always so complicated?
I think I missed out on being June Cleaver. In the days where you popped out a few kids, your husband went to work and you spent the day cooking pot roast and wearing cute aprons over your poodle skirt. Life seemed simpler.
The only thing missing back then was tv. Cause let me tell you about my favourite rule to break. “Don’t let your kids watch tv. Especially before the age of 1, it will give them ADHD.” I honestly can’t remember who fucking told me this. But I will tell you a secret. If this
bullshit statement is true, then my kid is fucked.
We love tv around here. And music. There is never, ever, silence in this house unless we are all sleeping or it is during my morning coffee and internet time. The Destroyer happily watches an episode or three of Elmo’s World while she has breakfast. The we usually do some chores in the morning with the tv on in the background, or the radio on upstairs. Every now and then she’ll take a break from helping with laundry to go and dance to the music on some commercial on the tube.
Daddy has turned her into quite the sports fan. Doesn’t matter what the game, that plucky little monster will scream “GOGO GOOOO!” at the top of her little lungs for it. And consequently every time she sees a team logo.
Toopy and Binoo are like family. I’ll just leave it at that.
And the newest thing is Baby Einstein. Have you ever watched that shit? It’s like LSD for babies. She goes nuts for it. Completely. Mesmerized.
Anyway, I will admit that this winter is starting to feel very long, and we have been relying on the tube a little more than necessary. Destroyer would rather be outside playing, but Daddy likes his nuts unfrozen, and I am too fat to do up any of my winter attire. Thank God Grandma comes prepared for the weather. I think that’s why she’s the Destroyer’s favourite.
But it’s March, and spring is right around the corner. And then I can send her up and down the street on a tricycle with no helmet, covered in peanut butter with her forward facing carseat, and all you fuckers can go back to shaking your head about that.
Cause we do things the old fashioned way around here. Which is why my most commonly used phrase seems to be “Why? Am I doing it wrong?” Apparently the answer is yes. But you know what? My kid is fucking awesome. So around here, wrong is right.
Mother of the Year, right?