I love this quote, even though I refuse to consider myself middle-aged. I'm only 41, and plan on living well past 100. So the middle-age classification can start at about age 50, but not one second sooner.
I know as parents we're supposed to set really good examples for our kids. That even if they look like they're not listening, they're always watching us. Talk about pressure.
I try to do all the obvious "right" things:
Like doing my best to instill the importance of going to college, or at least getting some type of secondary education after high school.
Volunteer and support charities when you can.
Be confident; speak your mind.
Donate blood if you're able to.
Surround yourself by positive people.
I also make sure to avoid doing things that would give a bad impression:
Like, I don't do crack.
Hmmm.... it seems like that list should probably be a lot longer. I know there are a lot of things I shouldn't be doing, that my kids would probably beg me to stop. For instance, when they catch me dancing in the kitchen and singing along to the radio when I'm making dinner, the look on their faces is a mixture of horror and disgust. Similar to if they just witnessed a wild animal getting slaughtered in the woods.
But you know what? Here's my theory on raising kids - as long as I set a (semi) good example for my kids and do what's necessary to ensure they end up as decent, kind and productive tax-paying members of society - I should be allowed to be as goofy and embarrasing as I want. I gave birth to all four of them (three of them without any drugs) so I feel I earned that right.
A few months ago I was bringing my daughter Sophie and a friend to the movie. I asked if she was planning on meeting any boys there. She assured me she wasn't. After I dropped her off, she and her friend stood in line in front of the theater, waiting to go in. I drove away slowly and yelled out the window: "Make good choices! Leave room for Jesus!"
She looked at me, mortified and speechless, and I drove away completely satisfied with the impression I left.
A couple years ago I attended my 20 year high school class reunion. Talk about a fun time. The night before the banquet a bunch of us went out to the local bars and proceeded to drink for most of the evening. At some point in the evening, a woman with a prosthetic leg came into the bar (and no, this isn't the beginning of some joke). She unscrewed it, the bartender rinsed it out, and then proceeded to fill it up with tap beer. It was then that a few of us thought it would be a good idea to drink beer out of this fake leg.
Now, I know I wasn't the only one who did this, but apparently I was the only one caught on film. This is probably reason #217 why I can never run for public office.
But as parents, most of us try - most of the time - to be good role models. We really do. We shouldn't be penalized and ridiculed for letting our hair down and having a good time. Our kids need to know we're human and have faults, too. And that we may not always make the best decisions, but we do the best with what we can.
So my lovely children... I will not apologize for singing off-key to Salt-N-Peppa, shaking my hips when I make lasagna, or yelling out the window in front of your friends. Nor will I feel bad for dragging you out of the cafeteria at school during lunch because the vice-principal called to inform me you broke the rules. Again. When you have your kids you can be as embarrasing as you want. It'll be your right. And hopefully I'll be around and just enjoying what I see. I'll probably be a velour-track suit-wearing senior citizen, wearing big cocktail rings, teased hair and red lipstick, but I'll be happy.
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