Coming In Off the Ledge

Well, 24 hours, some Chipotle, some Internet lovin' (thanks guys), and some sage words of wisdom from my coworker who has grown kids and has BTDT when it comes to all of my parenting problems and I'm feeling a whole lot better about yesterday. As much as it sucks to watch your kids getting hurt, it's pretty much part of the job description of a parent.

I often find myself wishing I could take the punches for her. But half of the reason why I want to do that is because it would be much easier for me since I know stuff like that doesn't matter. And why do I know that? Because I had to learn it for myself from experience. Sheltering kids seems like a grand idea at the time, but then they become adults and don't know how to deal with conflict when the consequences are much more serious.

So, on to tonight's personal battle: dealing with the bittersweetness that is The Girl's First Sleepover. For reals?! She is not even eight years old, and yet tonight we packed up her Barbie suitcase with jammies, a change of clothes, toothbrush and travel toothpaste (and Mom Teddy, natch), and I drove her four blocks away to the birthday girl's house.

Craziness. I'm fully prepared for a midnight call to go get her, but you never know...she's often more independent than her ol' momma, who had to be picked up from Shannon R's house because I couldn't handle listening to devil light rock music before going to bed since our stereo at home was set exclusively to the "All Gaither, All the Time" channel.

Oh, and I think I may have seen the girl to whom I gave the EE yesterday coming to this same party. And, looking back with a day's worth of objectivity, I am not entirely certain that the recipient of my visual wrath was indeed the actual offender - she may have just been a henchgirl. Soooo, it's somewhat possible I may have scarred an innocent (does guilt by association count? Cuz she should know better than to hang around kids who say mean things).

(Mental picture... First Sleepover ruined by "Hey The Girl, did you know your mom gave Michaela Marie the EE yesterday. Nyah, nyah, now we're not gonna play with you ever again and we're going to make fun of you forever until you become The Bad Kid in class because you're desperate for any attention - even negative - and your grades fall and then you turn to drugs and alcohol and inappropriate relationships with boys all because your mom went all Momma Bear on the wrong kid.)

Sigh. I'm so glad they don't require some sort of passing grade on an entrance exam to demonstrate fitness to become a parent (or at least the absence of substantial neuroses). I'm not entirely certain I would pass said exam.