And for those of you that don’t know me, we thought we were such great parents we invited three more children into the mix through foster care and adoption. One of them is a biter. And when I say biter, I mean T-Rex, flesh tearing bites. Another one never ever stops talking and he will say ANYTHING. Like, “why is your head so big?” And “how comes you gots such an ugly nose?” Or “I hate your baby, I only likes my baby.”
And with those two, who we kindly refer to as the vandals, I keep my mouth shut when a child falls into tiger exhibit or shark tank at the zoo, cause yeah… We will be on the news at least once before these two are raised.
And I don’t want to be “that mom.” You know her, the one who stands nervously next to a squad car while the fire department tries to figure out how to shut down the power grid so your sons aren’t electrocuted. I wring my hands, pray and question… “Where did they even get a Kentucky Fried Chicken hot air balloon???”
I do watch them.
I do guide them.
I do pray for them.
I cut the crust off of their sandwiches and I clean their ears and clip their nails.
Still, they are a hot mess.
Our 14-year-old can play the piano by ear. She’s had this ability since she was two. She can also sing… Like, really sing. And we take no credit for this. As a matter of fact, we think it’s weird and creepy. We sleep with our door locked because we are afraid of her. We tiptoe around her, fully confident we might make her mad and she will start a fire with her mind.
Of course, we are glad she is talented and we hope these abnormalities pay for her college. We daydream she becomes rich and famous and cares for us in our old age. But her accomplishments aren’t our accomplishments.
