Friday, May 4, 2012
I remember when I was so mortified to be seen with my own parents that I would have them drop me off all the way around the corner so that none of my friends would see that I did, in fact, just exit a silver station wagon being driven by my beaming mom. And God forbid either of them ever try to put an arm around me or blow me a kiss. I would rather have been tortured by a pack of rabid raccoons than be subjected to any kind of public displays of parental affection.
And now that I am a parent myself, I cannot even imagine how agonizing that must have been for them. Sure it happened little by little, but it had to be like a knife slowly being shoved right into your gut. My mom always says that it absolutely broke her heart the day that I stopped holding her hand in public. I guess she knew deep down that it was the beginning of the end of my childhood innocence. And sure enough, I gradually transformed into this horrific teenage creature who spent far too much time telling them how much they sucked. How lovely to have your insides ripped out bringing this person into the world who is now embarrassed to even be in your presence.
So, in order to avoid this whole heart-wrenching experience, I’ve decided to make my shorties sign a legal-binding contract written up by a legitimate attorney promising that they will ALWAYS hold my hand and hug me. Failure to do so will result in consequences of some kind or another. Sure it’s not the most warm and fuzzy way to get some human contact from my offspring, but hey, sometimes a mama’s gotta do what a mama’s gotta do. And these kids are gonna love me whether they want to or not, dag nabbit!