…fruition

To me:
My kids are freaks! The conversation that centers round the husband’s water cooler doesn’t give my children much of a chance of ever being “normal,” and it’s “due to their eccentric parenting”. Could the boss have meant moi? T.

My children don’t fit the media-kid mold—the “Y” generation. “Y can’t I have more of everything handed to me, and “Y” can’t I have it faster, cheaper and made more exciting?” “Y” can’t you clean up the environment?” and “Y” did you start this conflict?”

In fact, my children avoid making any such rash statements because such a query would unleash the teaching dictator in me and they would be subject to an hour of social reprogramming.

I begin with an auditory harangue, followed by a visual representation of others who have it worse, and climax in a chore or two to actualize the kinesthetic learning concept.

Thus far, the teen-agers at my home are humble, modest, and caring yet cynical about all things in the world. My strongest behavior modifier is the threat of removing their library privileges. Television disgusts the lot of them and if it weren’t for their eerie fixation with old videos of Monty Python, I would be seeking immediate psychiatric intervention.[1]

To me,
My offspring are just like me, a bunch of non-conformists. They go up the down, and today she went in the out. She ignored the door sentry and his persistent, “Excuse me, may I help you?”
When he persevered and asked her twice more, the daughter finally stopped, and deigned to give him a short appraisal up and down and then retorted, “Not unless you are headed to the bathroom too?” Tired, T.

Those three children relate well with adults and each other; they are responsible and respectful and I am worried sick! I’m scared witless of the rebellion that is sure to come! Will they become stable contributors, marry happily, sacrifice to raise great kids, and end up living satisfied, debt-free lives? Yikes! They may never fit the “Y” generation’s idea of normal!

And so, I respond like each and every parent who has ever tried to translate the foreign language of parenting into their own lingo, I claim insanity.

My goal is to raise children who are unique, responsible, and considerate but I'm getting frustrating, confusing, exasperating, maddening and wearisome. I guess I can settle for the word different!

Reality Bite: Weird but wonderful was Grandma’s term for my teenism.

[1] Oh I already have? And they were no help! So, maybe the whole rest of the world is nuts too!