Grow(ing) up (kind of).

OddballPeople say you can’t be your child’s friend. They say there’s a fine line between being a “fun” parent and not behaving parent-ally. I don’t know where that line is. Probably under all of the laundry I’m not doing.

I found myself in an “oh-shit-I’m-going-to-have-a-baby?” kind of way at a pretty young age. Not 16 And Pregnant young, but I was definitely still an immature little shit. I’ve been winging it ever since. No, seriously. I have no fucking clue what I’m doing. I swear a lot (oh, you hadn’t noticed?). I don’t really have a filter between my brain and mouth. And I have definitely turned to my daughter when she’s being a nutjob and said things like “What the hell, man?”.

These moments aren’t shining parenting moments. I normally berate myself internally afterwards because, seriously, “What the hell, man?”. But then I just watch Gilmore Girls and Lorelai makes me feel a lot better about myself. Who needs self-help books when there’s Netflix.
Z-boy
My kids are alive, they’re happy, they’re healthy, they’re thriving. Yes, sometimes they don’t really seem to take me seriously. Sometimes strangers in public tell me I’m a great big sister (but that’s probably because most mothers don’t get stuck in children’s riding cars at the toy store). And sometimes I have week-long panic attacks thinking about how I’m going to deal with raising teenagers when I feel like I still am one. But I’m doing my best and I’m doing it with freaking buttloads of love, so I’m pretty sure that automatically gives me a few free passes. Love conquers all, or something like that.

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2 Responses to Grow(ing) up (kind of).

  1. jamie says:

    Hey would like to meet you if that’s possible

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