My friend Nicki and her husband Andrew, write this blog about raising Hazel, their toddling offspring. Lots of good pictures and quirky stuff. Nothing syrupy or group-huggy. Recently she posted this entry about [continued] evidence of their bad parenting. A modern, self-inflicted stockade, this public blogging thing.
When I learned to embrace other people's misconceptions, I became a much happier parent. Too bad that happened after the kids were grown.
Not to be outdone in the category of shitty parental reputations, here is my comment to her post:
When we sent our 15-year old daughter to Italy as an exchange student, we gave her money specifically to buy a heavy coat there—the luggage weight limits were strict and she didn't have enough room in her suitcase.
She lost her credit cards on the first stopover.
A week or so later, an AFS representative calls and scolds me for dumping my little matchgirl-child in a foreign country without money or adequate outerwear. After I stopped laughing (oh, they gave me such a stern look over the phone) and explained, I called my daughter and we roared—the idea of people thinking I wasn't overprotective was hilarious.
Then I begged her, Honey please go out a buy a coat today before they start interviewing foster parents here for your return, okay?
And for godsake, child, stop using socks for mittens.