When I am not imagining myself as a Nazi war criminal bounty hunter, I envision myself as the ultimate parent. In this epic fantasy, I am a firm, yet tender guardian, leading my flock like a fierce and noble Viking matron who would never stoop so low as to bait their good behavior.
Recently, I discovered that dream is about a likely to happen as finding a Nazi war criminal still alive. I was a mom for a week-ish to my sister’s three little ones, and during that brief time, all my lofty intentions of chivalrous parenting went where all dreams go to die: away from Pinterest. Perhaps someday when my own children are grown ups and still running around like savages, I will show them my swooning “Kids … Someday” Pinterest board and sheepishly murmur, “It’s the thought that counts, right?”
My future offspring, please accept my advance apology for bribing your good behavior with sweets and movies. I’ll make you cupcakes if you promise to not resent me for it.
Lie #1: My kids will never watch TV
Because … wait for it … my babies will be soooo busy feasting on the glories of Dickens and Tolstoy (in the original Russian) at the venerable age of 5 they won’t have time for TV.
Who am I kidding. Kids love fart jokes, defacing walls with crayons and poop and will be hypnotized by anything that moves on a screen.
The reality is that everyday I was One-Weekish Mom my nephews and niece watched a movie, and honestly, I might have watched it with them too. I have to be able to relate to them, right?
Or perhaps I am making up for all those deprived childhood years of mine, filled with the horrors of books, imagination and the great outdoors. What was my mom thinking??!
Lie #2: They will only listen to classical music
Mozart, Vivaldi, Beethoven … these prodigious names grace my childrens’ early lexicons, as their little souls soar on the raptures of symphonies and complex melodies.
Noooooope. Babies love love love the mind-numbing repetition of Bob the Builder. I discovered that If you combine Lie #1 with Lie #2 and put in a Bob the Builder movie for them, you can create a magical window of time to catch up on Downton Abby. Errr … I mean … catch up on your Mozart …
Lie #3: They will eat like princely rabbits
A health-freak of the highest nature, all things green, organic and fermented appear on my fantasy diet plan for my future brood. But unless I marry Peter Rabbit, I have a sinking feeling that my childrens’ guts will be host to fodder more along the lines of hot dogs, popsicles and ice cream. Hey, all those things (note I said ‘things’, not ‘foods’) can be green and organic too, right?
The worst part of this revelation? My sister’s kids are angels. And I still spoiled them. Banking on the sure likelihood that my offspring will be monsters, I better sign up for a Costco membership now so I can start stocking up on bulk popsicles.