As your mother, it is my responsibility, along with your father, to ensure:
That you arrive places safely.
That I know who you are with.
That you know how to boil water without burning the house down.
That you can do your own laundry without destroying your precious Arsenal jersey.
That you can do your own laundry without breaking a major appliance and costing us precious dollars.
That you are polite to adults.
That you understand the value of hardwork.
That you have as many doors open to you later in life as possible.
That you don't make really stupid social media decisions.
That you understand why drugs are bad.
That you respect the opposite sex.
That you take care of your body.
That you eat lots of vegetables and drink lots water.
That you learn how to control yourself when you are angry.
That you know the importance of forgiveness and compromise.
That you know and follow The Golden Rule.
That you do chores.
That you do chores without acting like I've asked you to chop off, deep fry, salt, pepper and eat one of your fingers.
That you take care of your dog.
That you do your homework.
That you remember your house key.
That you stop eating in your bedroom.
That you take care of expensive electronic equipment properly.
That you don't eat at McDonalds.
That you listen to music that doesn't make my own ears bleed.
That you know what's going on in the world.
That you don't take the bait.
That you don't let the haters get your down.
That you learn the value of thick skin and the gift of thin skin.
That you don't buy into what the media tells you a girl is. Or a boy. Or love. Or sex. Or happiness. Or pretty much anything.
That you understand the importance of silence and solitude.
That you understand how badly your mom needs silence and solitude sometimes.
That you learn how much more rewarding it is to give a gift than to receive one.
That you don't leave your belongings on every soccer field between San Jose and Sacramento, and that when you do, you understand why we won't replace whatever it is you left behind. For the 117th time.
That you learn how to use: an alarm clock, a calendar, and a coffee pot. I'll admit to selfish reasons for that last one.
That you know why elderly people are so important to our very existence.
That you spend your time wisely.
That you relax in ways that truly refresh and restore you.
That you value IRL more than LOL and PWOMS and ROFLMAO.
That you can do yard work. Because I had to when I was a kid, that's why.
That you do not feel entitled to anything.
That you keep the smells emanating from your room to a minimum.
That you don't hate your siblings. Or, at least that you hate them as little as possible and keep it to yourself as much as possible.
That you brush your hair and use deodorant.
That you have good friends, the kind that will help you deal with your parents.
That you don't get in cars with people you shouldn't.
That you always tell me the truth, because I will make your life miserable if you don't.
That you know a good movie from a bad one.
That you laugh at Wait Wait Don't Tell Me.
That you will leave my house at 18 years of age ready for the world.
* * *
When you think about it, isn't it kind of amazing that I ever find time NOT to nag? That somewhere in between making sure all that stuff is happening, I actually make food for you, and drive you places, and look at silly Vines that make you laugh?
* * *
Don't worry. You'll understand all of this someday.
1 comment:
Sounds like you are having as much fun as we are right now! I like that second-to-last item on your list, though. My David used to love that show, but now he can't enjoy anything I enjoy, apparently.
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