Monster or Mogul?

I CANNOT be the only unpaid offspring servant asking herself this question today. Am I raising a monster... or perhaps a mogul? The odds of the latter are not in our favor, so I guess we’d better get a hold of this sass that is getting out of control. There is a fine line between spicy and undeniably out of line.

Most of the time, our little diva hovers over that line, but remains just cute enough to not get sent to juvy. For example, when driving the “trash truck” (her new nickname for her personal car service), if I hear “Scrawl (squirrel) comin’ atcha, mama!!” I know that her favorite new Beanie Baby, which is actually a raccoon by the name of Roxie, is about to take flight and hit the front windshield from the backseat. A small part of me wants to turn around and give her the best Karen threat I can muster up, and the other half of me is laughing so hard I’m trying not to pee in my athleisure wear. (See “I Pee When I Sneeze” from 2019 if you are concerned for my lack of bladder control.)

Sidebar:: Remember when people cashed in their 401k’s to get in on the Beanie Baby thing?! 😂 If someone told me to risk it all and buy thousands of fidget spinners a couple of years ago I would have paid money to see my facial expression. It would most definitely have said “Geez, Richard, did you not learn anything from Beary Garcia circa ‘94, ya dumbass?!”.

I am really struggling lately with where to draw the line with her. I can’t send her to West Point for being a smartass, but I also don’t want to under react and end up with a present day Amanda Bynes under my roof. I jumped her shit the other day for arguing with her brother (who is almost 6 years her senior and acts like her twin on occasion) and she looked at me with a straight face and demands: “Oh, mom, shut it down.” What I wanted to say: Absolutely not, no ma’am. Not in my trash truck!! I’m allowed to drop the mom voice whenever my bleeding heart feels like it. I pushed you out of my vagina. It is my birthing right to yell at you if necessary. So perhaps, my dear, you should be the one “shutting it the eff down”. What I actually said: You do not talk to me like that, young lady. No hipad for the rest of the day. 🤦‍♀️ I’m so weak. SP Fox is so much better at being mean than I am. Sorry, honey, it’s the truth. You’re a hot dad, but a mean one when necessary. I talk a big parenting game, but I’m the skinny little fella that gets bullied in the prison yard in the Jones house most days. #thingstoworkon #needashank #maybeafacetat

I love my little girl with my whole heart, and her big personality creates the highlights of my days! Even if she does become a mogul someday, I want her to know that you can be funny and respectful, sassy and sweet, and reacting like a full on sociopath is not necessary in 100% of life situations. I’ve said it before and I will say it again... if my children aren’t assholes, I am winning as a mother. Now I think I’ll go out and buy a police divider for the trash truck to cut down on the Scrawl incidents that are driving me so nuts (pun intended) (nerd alert).

Til next time, my friends. Good luck in the parenting trenches. May the odds be ever in your favor.