Cruel Summer

"It's too hot to handle
So I've got to get up and go.

It's a cruel summer. . ." - Bananarama

Wouldn't it be nice if we could "fix" everyone else's problems? I would flit through the days offering up pearls of wisdom and meaningful resolutions to life's little conflicts. Bippity boppity boo.

There is a reason that we start life out as a cute little baby (aside from a nice fit in the convenient carrying case!) What's not to love about all that tiny little stuff wiggling happily in your direction? By the time you've taken a toddler to the grocery store, you're already hooked - too late to send it back.

If only losing favor over a lack of candy purchases were the worst you were going to get. Before you know it, you've argued yourself out of feeling guilt for making them eat a vegetable, not owning the most advanced video game system, and telling them you love them in front of their schoolmates.

The peak of thanklessness usually occurs between the period from sixteen to twenty (I know, I am a recovering teenager myself!) when the majority of your best efforts, major sacrifices and shared confessions often come flying back at you with a resounding SMACK!

This smackage is not exclusive to single parents or married parents, moms or dads, every day guardians or those who parent for two weeks in the summer. It is the nature of the young of most species to butt heads with their elders - who still bear some of the bruises from their own "butthead" days. It is hard to see your kids take their knocks, harder when you're the one having to inflict them, worse yet when they keep coming back for more.

At this moment, my four children are all present and accounted for - all safe and within reach, snoozing unabashedly. I will not dip too deeply into my revelry, for the day is young and so are they. . .

My thoughts this morning go out to the summer parent trying to make amends and be friends with kids who are acting like rear-ends. And to the kids trying to stay centered in a world that surely revolves around them.

Just remember, even the Fairy Godmother gave Cinderella a curfew. Bippity boppity boo!

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