Hello my dearest,
I hope you’ve had a fabulous summer. We are back-to-schooling over here, and it is in live time, so we are adjusting like right quick. New schedules, new schools, new pimples, new friends, and new, overpowering colognes and hair clays.
It’s all happening.
And I am coming out swinging today because I feel I have earned a particular parenting badge-of-honor I’d like to brag about today.
My daughter said FUCKING. And she said it in my direction.
It wasn’t a full FUCK YOU, Mom. (I’m guessing that will come from subsequent siblings). She softened it by commenting on my “fucking rules,” instead of ME exactly, mind you.
But it was a FUCK, nonetheless. Clear as day.
And it was just in time…
I am reminded of this time when I was in high school (same high school, coincidently)… a junior or a senior maybe, and it was 3am.
My dear friend, who will remain nameless for the sake of this post, was lying in my bed, puking on the floor and into a trashcan (when her aim served her), and yelling at my parents, who stood in my doorway watching the whole drunken debacle unfold.
“You are HORRIBLE parents! You are so unkind to Brie! She should come and live with my family who is SO much more reasonable!…”
On and on she wailed, between pukes in the trash bucket I held.
I don’t remember everything about that night. (Yes, we were wild ones). But what I do remember is my parents…
Dad, arm leaning against the doorjamb. Mom, scooting back and forth between my room and the bathroom. Both of them, looking at us, shaking their heads, and laughing.
Laughing. Can you imagine? What a brilliant response.
So when that flying F bomb was delivered plop into my lap this morning before 8am whilst sitting on her bed (no puking—bless, bless…), my gut reaction was to laugh. I couldn’t help myself.
Because hallelujah! We have arrived. We have officially done our job as parents.
In truth, I was beginning to get a little worried. The girl is almost TOO good. Always listening, always communicating, always kind, and following through, homework done before the deadline, blah, blah, blah.
“You gotta be a sinner before you can be a saint,” my dad’s said to us both over the years.
She’s a senior now. Sinner, step forth.
Because how could I possibly send her out into the world to face all the catty bitches and sleazy dirtbags every girl must face on the path if she’s always ONLY sugary sweet?
I’d like to thank you, dear bitchy friend for being so condescending, exclusive, and shallow, and for stealing my boyfriend. Namaste. And you, dear Sir for commenting on my breasts, grabbing my ass in public, and not giving me the job because of your discomfort with my attractiveness. Thank you. I’ve learned a great deal.
Fuck no! A girl’s gotta have a little fight in ‘er.
If she doesn’t at first push back on her parent’s unreasonable fucking rules, it’ll be a long road of hard learnings out in that big, bad, dirty world.
So with pride I say: I think she’ll be ready for college now.
Have a blessed fucking day,
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