Talking It Out with Mini Me

CloverPuppy

Reading your parents blog where they work through the complexities of your burgeoning, adolescent, lawyer-like [read: limited-in-experience-and-manipulative] way of viewing the world will be, I hope, also complex.

I bet you’ll struggle with how you’ll do this parenting thing differently. I bet you’ll question your motives and review your young manipulations.

Then I hope you forgive yourself. And grow.

Then I hope you forgive me for publishing it: all that I could see and any undertones I could not yet understand. My Talking-It-Out.

*     *     *

“Mummy I’m so stressed about getting good marks at school! I don’t see why it matters so much. Is it so I’ll get into a good high school and then university?”

“It’s so you can stay in competitive cheer.”

“Yes but why do I need good marks. I could just work at the gym when I’m old enough. It’s all I like to do.”

“If I allowed my 10 year old girl to make decisions affecting the rest of her life, allowed her to shut down every other avenue, killing the chances that another true love, like cheerleading, will spring up… I’m sorry – I just can’t let you do that right now. What else might be possible besides loving cheer?”

“I don’t want to talk about this ever again.”

*    *     *

But to you, my worldly experience doesn’t trump your gut feelings does it? It’s not fair that I get to make the choices when so clearly everything in your being wants to be at the gym all day every day, not crocheting a gnome.

Sorry I’m not homeschooling you.

You think I don’t get you. But I WAS you. In so many ways.

And then you get mad when I ASSUME I know how you feel, what you will say… You say I’m wrong. Am I simply trying to be RIGHT a lot by guessing your state of mind? I want you to know your own mind and be one step ahead of the tricks your ego will play on you. Be aware. So I make assumptions, to better serve you. What else is possible?

So we talk. We keep using words, approximations, to attempt to explain the intricacies. Listening.

Wish us luck.

(*Feel free to rip apart my parenting and nazel-gazing in the comments below.)

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