These are some secrets that have been weighing me down lately. I need to share them so that they’ll become a little lighter (and so, if I’m honest, you’ll make me feel a little less guilty about them).
Thank you in advance for your kind words.
1. I let my kids eat goldfish crackers for breakfast.
On a lot of days. Most days, actually. And then I shuffle them off to school as though they’re going to grow like normal children.
2. I’ve developed some degree of disdain for the Oxford Comma.
It’s weird. While I was teaching, I was a huge proponent of the old OC. I tweeted in anger about its demise. I wrote sentences on the whiteboard that illustrated how important, how vital it was, to include every Tom, Dick, and Harry. Not just Tom, Dick and Harry. But now I think that maybe Dick and Harry should just get a room. I’m tired of dwelling on their public displays of excess punctuation.
3. My son is obsessed with a specific video game that features animal-like sky creatures in a far-off land that looks like New Zealand.
They battle and have all manner of heroic attributes, including invisibility and arms that shoot bullets at ogres. I am pretty uncomfortable with the sounds of bombs (?) and gun-like things (maybe guns?) and how I have now fallen into the statistic of parents who let their kids play “violent” video games. But it’s really hard to tell your kid—after he gets a video game you’ve never seen for his birthday—that he can’t play it even though it makes him really happy. I mean, there’s some almost-valuable problem-solving in this situation. He has learned really important skills, like how to defeat evil monsters with a ball and chain. Not to mention the cool graphics and battery-operated “portal of power” which talks to the TV. Also, he kind of has to use his imagination when he plays. Oh, did I mention the confidence he’s gained? And the girl-elf who can beat on the large backsides and pot-bellies of bad guys? This is not all bad, right?
(It’s true, I’m spending too much time justifying it. But eliminating all manner of superheros and violence from his media can’t be the solution, because then he’d just become even more obsessed with superheros and violence and sneak away to his friends’ houses to play worse games. Right? Moderation in all things, not extremism. Right?)
4. I got a veneer on my left incisor and I’m really afraid it’s going to fall off.
5. My daughter still uses a pacifier when she sleeps and I really don’t care.
Really. I don’t. I’ll let her use that thing until she’s four if it means she’ll quit her damn whining.
6. I’ve taken to just not packing a lunch every day. (This isn’t a secret, necessarily.)
I just don’t want to do the whole health-conscious-economically-savvy thing anymore. I want a freakin’ turkey sandwich the size of my head. And chips. And maybe a diet coke and cookie to finish it off. Who cares if I’m developing a very soft, elastic-accentuating Mom Belly? It’s a totally normal—and in fact, proper—thing to happen to a woman in her thirties.