“Every man alone is sincere. At the entrance of a second person, hypocrisy begins.” - Ralph Waldo Emmerson
I deplore hypocrisy. . .and yet, I think parents of teens are hypocrites by definition.
I was certainly no saint as a teen. As an adult, I'm afraid to go to church lest I spontaneously combust upon entering. . .but do I expect my children to be perfect? I try to justify it by saying that my circumstances were different, harder - but, between you and me, that's really no excuse, is it?
Some days just deserve an expletive in my book, usually uttered as I slip below the water in my bathtub, "Flub me!". . .and yet, when Double Decades forgets that he's talking to his mother and drops a bomb, it really bothers me and I fuss at him.
Fifteen for a Moment broaches the subject of decorating (mutilating, I say!) her body with holes and jewelry and maybe a tattoo. . .all I can do is tell her, "Well, when you are eighteen, you can make that decision for yourself." I hope the fad will have passed by then.
Every day I encounter the "decorated" - their artful tattoos or trendy piercings - and I don't think to myself, "Oh, what an awful person!" Lately, I don't notice it so much as to even give it a thought.
(Although, sometimes it is a little distracting to order dinner while spittle dangles off of the server's lip ring. . .)
But do I want my lovely daughter to become a "work" of art - heck no!
Don't even get me started on sex. . .although it is convenient to say, "I did it, and look how well I turned out!" That's good for a scare!
So why does it feel like I am eyeballs deep in muddy water when it comes to my own children? Too much thinking for a Wednesday. . .
1 month ago