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Omg, shut the fuck up but don’t stop talking to me

February 12, 2012

As our oldest Spawn boy child approaches the double digits for reals and will be 11 years old in just a few weeks I try to temper my hatred of the all the eye rolling, shrill tones and exasperated declarations of injustice with the fact that he is still talking to me. Neigh, still kissing and hugging me. Still everyday he wraps his tiny arms around me neck, kisses me right on the lips and lays in my lap. When I don’t want to slap the shit out of him.

Now while he actually hears me and acknowledges what I am saying to him he just does not do it. Before the tweendom-he would just ignore us. Now he has become craftier and will say “Sure, sure, okeydokey!” and then just not do a fucking thing. For example, you can say “Hey dude, can you get dressed for school?” Spawn says “Sure thing.” 15 minutes later he is still in his pajamas and will scream when asked what the fuck are you doing-get dressed, “I CAN’T FIND ANY UNDERWEAR, OKAAAAAAYYYY? (sheesh, mumble, mumble, sheesh,razzelfrattenflurpsypoop….)

But then later he says stuff like, “I love you so much, you’re so pretty. I am the luckiest kid. You are a great mom!”

I rule! I win.

But yet, still no pants are put on.

Sigh.

I will try to be grateful he still lets me smell his head, kiss his neck, squeeze him tight and snuggle him. I will overlook his complete lack of interest in doing anything I say when I say it without some kind of shitty protracted argument about why he shouldn’t have to do it. Even when its stupid crap like eating dinner, taking a shower and getting dressed.

I can handle the eye rolling but I can’t do without still smelling the top of your head. So stay close and I will tune out the crappy argument just like you tune out my rules and orders.

Parenting is a partnership where the parents have the illusion they are in charge and driving the boat. I may be driving the boat, I may have built the boat but I am not the boat.

Winter makes me extra metaphorical.

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