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Toddlers and babies are hard.  Very hard.  Physically and mentally draining.  No doubt about it.  Sometimes I think I wanna just stick an IV tube in my arm with a direct wine drip and pass through this time on my grape cloud…

All that being said, to me, some of the hardest ‘parenting’ moments occur when our children go out into the world and start making real decisions, with real consequences.

Like when my son was 13 and he was at the park with friends. He came back home and his cousin ratted him out that he had smacked a girl on her bottom.

On her bottom.

Unfortunately for my son, I was making pasta when I was told.  So I took myself, my wooden spoon and my Italian temper upstairs to have a discussion with my son on how we treat young ladies (or people in general).  I wasn’t hearing any of the BS either, about how it was a ‘game’ and that everyone was doing it (I can’t stand the everyone is doing it line)….

Needless to say, I am not sure I was very effective at getting my point across to my son.  I did need a new spoon though.

The other day my 10-year-old daughter comes home very upset that she didn’t get a part in the play that she tried out for.  Her friends did and she just was feeling horrible.  My heart froze.  What do I say?  How do I get across to her that life is kinda like this sometimes, and that usually there is a good reason for it, and that something even better is coming now?

I tried to tell her, just like that.  Using an example from my past.  But in her ten-year old heart, she probably didn’t hear me (though I know she is still learning as we all learn from these things in life called experiences).

So I did the next best thing.  I got her ice cream.

Not very effective again.  Probably teaching her to eat her sorrow away. Damn it.  I suck at this.

I am gonna go drink my anxiety away about my parenting skills now.