Dec 12th, 2012 by Jennifer Lynn
Dearest Lexi, as your mommy, the things I am not.
- I am not your chew toy to gnaw on to test-drive pointy little incisors.
- Nor is my nipple.
- I am not The Keeper of your stuffed animals. There will be a new rule: if YOU chuck Mr. Blobby into the toilet, YOUR FATHER will fish out the toy.
- Speaking of whom, I am not here to be meddlesome and cast a disapproving eye on all of your rowdy skirmishes with Papa. Heckle him back.
- I am not inclined to lock into a dubious battle with you over meals by trying to jam stuff down your gullet.
- As your mommy, I am not a dumping ground for unsolicited advice from others. Therefore I am not going to allow quibblers, with their endless heaping of opinions/criticism, to undercut my natural parental instinct. Although I will consult our pediatrician or peers I respect, my intuition is still the best handbook on the market.
- I am not obligated to endure your spits of tantrum or to engage in wrestling matches with you over attire, and I have no qualms about shipping you off to the funny farm. (Psyche!)
- I am not your best friend and sometimes things I do or say are really going to piss you off.
- I am not going to be amused and sweet when you wiggle into bed at four in the morning and slap me in the face. (And then incidentally snuggle right back to sleep, you little punk.) You need to learn to respect my sleep and to be kinder to old people, especially this crotchety bat.
- Despite my best efforts I am not a perfect mommy. This is what you’re stuck with, I’m afraid.
Anyhoodle, I love you.