Horrible Parenting

I think we can all agree that parenting is a crap shoot. You do the best you can with what you know and wing the rest. Chances are, you are winging it quite a bit.  Most of us want our kids to be independent thinkers – to make decisions based on their own experiences and investigation – but still expect them to hold on to our most important core values.

Dave and I raised both of our kids this way, and while they have often presented us with a laundry list of challenges, I didn’t really expect them to stab me in the back with this one.

My kids hate coffee.

I know, right?  Like, they could have been Bear fans or communists but nooooooo.

Where did I go wrong? How could I have prevented this? Am I a bad parent? What will the neighbors think? Will they realize it’s just a phase or will they gather around my door with torches and pitchforks?

I don’t know what else I could have done.  I was quite possibly the best example of what it means to have a coffee addiction in the entire universe.

Every morning I greeted my children with a hug and a coffee breath kiss. I left heart shaped coffee rings on their homework. I walked them into school with my coffee stained shirts and smiled my coffee stained smiles at their teachers and friends. On days they were late for school or dressed funny, the teachers whispered “She must have run out of coffee.”.

I seriously don’t know how they dodged this bullet. It should have been stamped into their little beverage genetic codes from conception. Coffee is the lifeblood from which my entire family functions.

Coffee for breakfast.  Coffee for lunch.  Coffee for dinner.  After dinner coffee.  Coffee with coffee cake.  Coffee with cheesecake.  Coffee with bundt cake.  Coffee with ANY cake.  Coffee with pie.  Coffee while we work.  Coffee while we pretend to work but we are really thinking “this coffee would be much better with cake”.  Coffee for road trips.  Coffee on vacation.  Coffee on coffee tables while reading coffee table books while we wait for more coffee.

But no. You know what they like to drink? They like to drink MILK.  MILK!!!

Nothing against milk – it has it’s place on top of my cereal or IN MY COFFEE(!). Maybe as a beverage if I am feeling guilty about calcium intake, but let’s be serious. We all know that’s what cheese is for. (Mmmmm….cheese…..and cake…. CHEESECAKE…mmmmmmm….)

Their dad, however, is a milk drinker. And he comes from a long line of milk drinkers. Was I NOT paying attention when I met him in art class? Was I so enamored with trying to kiss him during film strips that I forgot to ask him pertinent questions such as “What is your opinion about banjos?” “If your wife brought home several stray cats, how would you react?” and “How do you feel about coffee breath?”. But no. I had to ask things like “Do you have a car” and “Will you pick up me and my friends and take us to go buy beer?”.

So now you know. I’m a parenting failure. I gave birth to milk drinkers, who will, in turn, have more milk drinkers. My legacy is dead. I have failed.  Dave, on the other hand, is victorious.  And I am reminded of this every time I buy groceries and return home with 4 gallons of milk and only one bag of coffee.

Now, if you will excuse me, I must go drown my sorrows in Starbucks Sumatra with just a touch of cream, and a huge ass piece of Costco All American chocolate cake, after which I will enjoy a cozy football nap and then maybe have more coffee.

Until next time,

Parenting Failure Coffee Breath Sue

PS.   I found out AFTER I wrote this that my children do, in fact, drink coffee, thus making my entire post a LIE.  Well played, children.  Well played.

PPS. However, despite being a bald faced liar, with this turn of events, I can now say I am a huge parenting success. I have bestowed two more coffee drinkers unto the universe.  Dave is a milk drinking L-O-S-E-R!

PPSS. Dave would like to remind you that I’m a liar and any claims above regarding my greatness and his loser-ness should be taken with a large glass of milk, of which we have plenty because I just went grocery shopping.

PPSSS.  Dave would also like you to know that at least he will share his milk but if you try to touch my coffee, I will stab you in the back of your hand with a fork.  Not that he has any first hand experience with this.