The Sordid Truth

So here it is... the truth. I have been avoiding you. All of you. And I guess what I am hoping is you will maybe understand. If not, well then so be it. Please be patient and know that any irritation in my 'voice' is not, I repeat, not directed at you. But since it is illegal to throttle my children and abandon them on the street, I must take my frustrations out on the innocent... you.

Now, why have I been ignoring all the wonderful, optimistic, conscientious, inspiring tales of raising the next generation? Because suddenly I see the futility of it all. The societal judgment lingering in the air, for nothing, has gotten the better of me. The angst over breast or bottle, TV or no TV, green or... well, apparently there is no other choice besides green, or our kids, and the world as we know it, will all just instantly go to Hell.

I guess it seems harsh and, well, rude, to say it just doesn't matter if you do or do not grow your own squash to then boil (But not too long or all the nutrients will evaporate and your children will get rickets. Or is it scurvy?), and then mash, and then strain, and then mash again, and then feed to your children as they listen to Vivaldi's Four Seasons.

And do you know how I know it doesn't matter? Because I've done it. And you know what? My kids still talk back to me. They forget their homework at school. They complain about taking the trash out every single time, even though they have been taking out the trash twice weekly for the last 4 years. They fail tests. They go out with friends, in actual moving vehicles, and don't answer their cell phone for hours at a time. Yes, it happens.

The pressure on teens today is insane, and even in the most laid back of households, they feel it. Kids are depressed, kids feel lonely and isolated, and it has very, very little to do with whether or not they learned the alphabet in Chinese as a toddler. They react to things with little regard to the 'tools' they learned during circle time in kindergarten. Hormones are raging, chemicals in the brain are on the loose, disaster looms around every corner. Yes, it happens.

Or maybe at this point, you are thinking, "Well, it won't happen in my house." And maybe it won't. But it probably will. And, like me, you will be ill prepared for the constant frustration and emotional wrangling.

But, at least I know that when the day comes and my boys are standing in front of a judge, awaiting their sentence, they will remember to say "Yes Ma'am". And the nutrition they banked as infants will sustain them through years of prison food.