There really needs to be a parenting bill of rights.
Oh, wait, I came up with it:
1. I have the right to leave my house with stained clothes (knowingly and unknowingly)
Why the hell do you care what I look like in the school drop-off line? Go back to Snootyville, you snooty snootster. Messy ponytail and red pimples? Yeah, bitch. #iwokeuplikethis
2. I have the right to complain about my kids
Just because I whine about them doesn’t mean I don’t love them. I have the right to want a break. Let’s file things like “drop the kids at day care when I’m sick or not feeling well or need some peace” here.
3. I have the right to remain silent.
If I don’t talk much on our run together or if I don’t spend 20 minutes discussing life when I bump into you in the grocery store, it’s simply because I really like the quiet. I miss the quiet. Whenever I can get the quiet, I will take the quiet, pour it into my overused coffee mug and drink every last drop of it.
4. I have the right to a messy home or car.
I don’t want to have to explain myself or be ashamed, especially when someone shows up unannounced. Parents who have it together are 10 steps ahead of the rest of us; they aren’t the norm. Expect the mess.
5. I have the right to give my child a tablet whenever I want.
Yes, I will be THAT parent who gives my son a tablet while we are out to eat just so my husband and I can actually have a meal and a conversation without chasing a child around a restaurant. I like when other people do the cooking and the cleaning. Every once in a while, I deserve this, damnit.
6. I have the right to think my kid is the best kid in the world.
If I didn’t think my children were the best children in the world, I would have probably started looking for an upgrade by now. “Yes, I’d like this model, but maybe one that isn’t as whiny.”
7. I have the right to think my kid is trying to kill me.
Not in a Menendez way, obviously. But yeah, I have the right to think that my children will be the death of me. I am allowed to feel like I’m drowning in diapers and Legos. My entire house is a pile of quicksand, and most days, I’m just lucky that I can keep my head above ground zero.
8. I have the right to drink wine until my teeth are stained red.
Don’t make a comment on it. If you see it, just realize that I have had THAT kind of day. This right also covers coffee breath all day long and eating cold French fries for dinner without judgment.
9. I have the right to have ups and downs.
I’m sick of people telling me to love my body because it gave me a baby, or to appreciate the hard days because the kids will grow up too soon. I have the right to be frustrated if I can’t lose the weight or if I have cellulite. I have the right to be frustrated all day long when the kids won’t stop screaming “Mommy!” Let me have my feelings. Please.
10. I have the right to parent as I see fit.
As long as my children are safe, I’m allowed to make my own decisions regarding what is best for them. Further, I have the right to do this without interference from snobby know-it-alls who have “perfect” children and assume it’s all due to their expert parenting.