My kids will tell me how their friends think I am cool; of course, I let this get to my head! What kind of parent would I be if I didn’t? I often remind them that they would be bored if I tried to be that “PERFECT ADULT” mom (the very thought of which makes me cringe). I am not that person and at some point I decided screw it (really I used a four letter word, an expletive), that ideal of parenting is not for me. I am completely immature at times, totally disheveled and I survive in a chaotic organization (I know what is in each one of my piles). The relationship I have with my children is pretty good. They share their day with me. (If you have teenagers you know this is often a difficult task, akin to pulling teeth without Novocaine.) I deal with teenage angst and sometimes I don’t respond with enough enthusiasm for my children to be content:
Them: “That’s all you have to say. I’m sharing what happened and that’s all I get”
Me: “What do you want me to say? Oh My God! Are you for real? That’s great! (Changing my tone into a high pitched one that shows great enthusiasm. You know the one reserved for toddlers.)
Them: “Yes! That’s much better.”
I find myself regressing as of late, rebelling against the very idea that I have to be “ADULT” and follow some standard. I have my moments where I am completely immature and realize that I lack the whole “ADULT” identity. I am trying to find a balance between the real world and my desire to be whoever I want to be in the moment. I think we all know where and when we have to be “ADULT” (like work, meetings, etc. although, sometimes those things bring out the most immature tendencies of the so-called “ADULT”), but once we leave that bubble of complacency we should explore our identity and indulge in the things we enjoy that help us nurture our self. The world is tough, expectations are always high and sometimes it’s draining to keep up appearances.
I listen to rap music, pop, rock, Spanish, English, Broadway and dance around like no one is watching (but my kids do; I mean they have no concept of privacy for mommy) I sing at the top of my lungs, off tune. I read intellectually intriguing books (this includes Dr. Seuss). I browse through those fashionable magazines that show me an unbelievable standard of beauty that I should strive for and read those articles about how to quote-on-quote please my man (which I still don’t have, I don’t think the advice works). I watch horrible TV shows, drink black coffee (bean water), write, color, and crochet beanies and fingerless gloves (got birthdays, need gifts?).I think about issues in the world, I fear for the future of my children and I try to show them the fine balance between unconditional love and don’t do that.
“ADULT” whatever that means is not what I strive for. I know when and where I have to put the brakes on, and I never shirk my responsibilities. I don’t want to skew my view on life to comply with standards of society that I can’t adhere to.
So, I decide to make waves when I can play in the rain (as long as there is no lightning), laugh at inappropriate jokes, sit and listen when I can and observe all the time.
Screw complacency, digress here and there and learn to laugh at yourself.
I mean I “ADULT” but in my own way.
That works for me, and that is what works for my kids, it does not work for everyone but in all honesty I am the only one that matters and I always agree with myself.