During this NightQuil-DayQuil-Theraflu-Homeopathic battle warring over by body, I’ve had random five minute breaks from the clutches of parenthood. And during these hazy, and yet lucid moments, I’ve come to the realization that there’s been an ongoing breach of my standards.
Standards that were ironclad pre-family, but now for some reason after two kids, these standards have loosened a bit and fallen into the “suggestions” category of life.
Whether I’m suffering flu-like symptoms or not certain things have come to pass in the Guat household, things that I would have never allowed in any other relationships. And being the die-hard Seinfeld fan that I am, I get all my life and relationship advice from Jerry and his gang. And during this cloudy period I realized that I’ve let these standards crumble simply because I love my kids.
I just do.
There’s no other rational response as to why I’ve accepted these socially blacklisted behaviors.
So if you find that you’ve tolerated more than one of the following behaviors, I’m afraid to tell you that there’s no coming back.
It’s part of parenthood.
The Close Talker. This is someone that has forgotten the definition of personal space and breaks all kinds of boundaries during a regular conversation. My son constantly has conversations with me about Legos, trains, books, Star Wars, or sandwiches … centimeters away from my face.
The Anti-Dentite. Normally I discourage the hatred or fear of any profession, but it appears both of my kids fall under the Anti-Dentite category. They don’t like dentists. They don’t want to see dentists. They don’t want to hear what dentists have to say. And a lollipop is not a big enough bribe.
Re-Gifter. My son is constantly re-gifting toys and books to give to his sister. Once he’s done playing with something he feels the need to turn around and give her the stuff as a gift. A poorly wrapped one, but nevertheless a gift. I’m amused by this one.
The Pop-In. This is the person that visits someone unannounced and without warning. I find that my kids are always popping-in on me in the bathroom. This is not cool, but no matter how many times I tell them the rules, some sort of Nickelodeon Junior emergency transpires at this time.
The Double-Dipper. This is the person that re-dips their chip into the communal bowl multiple times … the whole re-dipping then feels like they’ve put their entire mouth in the dip. My kids tend to do this, their kids. They enjoy dip. But even when I serve them a plate with their own dip, they find the larger bowl more appealing than the dollop on their plate.
The Jimmy Legs. I like having my own bed. Space where I can sink into a deep sleep. However kids find their way to the Serta mattress and their legs begin to kick and smack me, like they’re having some sort of spasm, but in reality they’re probably dreaming of playing soccer or being ninjas.
Some of these infractions combined with a bad day usually elicit a Serenity Now moment and massive amounts of chocolate, but for the most part it’s laughter. That’s what love does.