I refuse to put that bumper sticker on my car.
You know the one.
You’ve been stuck behind it at a red light, and it offered you no entertainment or philosophical enlightenment.
Or perhaps you’re someone who has said bumper sticker – the one that says this:
My kid is on the honor roll at Such and Such Elementary.
Or some variation of that.
Before I became a parent, I made many decrees on what I would and would not do once motherhood arrived.
I swore I would never use my spit to wipe crusty stuff off of my kid’s face. I failed at that one pretty quickly because when you’re getting the family out of the car, don’t have a napkin, and your son’s face is peeling with dried mystery food, nothing works likes a little saliva. I’d now lick my kid’s face if I had to in order to keep the public from thinking we roll around in our food like animals.
I remember proclaiming that I would trust my children with the truth and embrace the season of giving without lying to them about a fat man in red called Santa. That was, of course until my son turned two and Christmas got fucking awesome.
I was anti-minivan. Mine has automatic doors and plays movies for the backseat passengers.
Several months ago I also caught myself using the phrase that every parent swears they will never say – because it was used on them, and it sucked. We have entered the four-year old stage of “why” and “why” and for the fiftieth time, “why”. I’ll tell you why – “Because I said so”.
We moved out to the suburbs.
I got a “mom bob” haircut (on accident, but all the same).
I sang the Barney theme song for a full year at bedtime.
I caved on all these things, but I have to stick to my guns at some point.
I will not put that bumper sticker on my car.
Perhaps I feel like it would declare that I’m a parent and nothing else that I used to be.
Perhaps it seems just too cliché and I want to fight it with what’s left of my eccentric self.
it’s because my son hasn’t started elementary school yet.
Only time will tell.