Righteous

If there's one thing about parenting I like the most, it's got to be being right.  I LOVE being right.  Everyone does.  And if you say you don't, you're a liar.  I'm positive I'm right about that by the way.  My righteousness is exacerbated by the fact that I have teenagers who think I'm a moron convinced I don't know crap because they are also righteous.  I'm positive I'm right about that one too.  Because that's exactly what I thought of my mom when I was a teen.  

But I was wrong.  

Of course I didn't realize how much my mom got right until I was a mom myself.  Which is exactly when I started being right all the time.  (This may be an outright lie.)  So much of parenting is pretending you know the answers and what to do, that sometimes you forget you actually have no idea what you're doing.   Because you're simply so lost in the charade of adulting and trying to win the Oscar for parenting.   But alas,  there is no Oscar for parenting.  So why the hell do we try so hard?  

Because it seems like the right thing to do.  

But then, sometimes, you are right.  And your teen will come to you and tell you some utter bullshit.  And you'll calmly tell that child that you think that's really interesting, but that you're concerned for this particular litany of reasons, because of these potential outcomes.  And that outcome may blow up in their face.  Then you allow them to choose.  Secretly hoping it will blow up in their face.  Not enough to cause permanent damage.  Just some painful yet superficial flesh wounds.  And when everything plays out exactly the way you predicted, you're so relieved you were right, you want to shove their face in it so bad.  Of course, you won't.  But, on the inside you totally are.   Not that you wanted to be right, cause you didn't.   But, it's just that they'll learn more, faster from failing on their own.    

And then you feel a little bit righteous for just a little bit.

Maybe I do know something about being a parent after all.