Tag Archives: parenting

Horrible Parenting


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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.

To My Kids On Mother’s Day


An oldie but a goodie – originally posted on my old blog, The Back Bedroom.  Worth repeating.  🙂

My babies, back in the day

My babies, back in the day

I know today is supposed to be about me. Or…moms in general. But really, it’s about you. From the moment I first found out I was pregnant with you, it has been about you.

Your Dad and I laid awake that first night, nervously talking about our future. Where we should live. If I should keep my job. Where we wanted you to go to school. Every decision from that moment on was no longer about what was best for us as a couple, but what was best for us as a family.

When you were only a centimeter long, you had already changed what I ate, what I drank and how much I slept. I quit smoking, not for my health, but for yours.

Because of you, we went back to church, worried about food additives, read parenting books, bought life insurance, created a will, bought MORE life insurance, moved to a better neighborhood, bought a bigger car, got rid of the evil cat, put all of our medicine where you couldn’t reach it (until you were about 2 and started climbing), stopped drinking alcohol, put child latches on all of the cupboards and covers on all of the outlets, got Pepper, a hamster, hermit crabs, Milo, Rocky, Midnight and the horrible disgusting rats.

You. Changed. Everything. But especially me.

So many times, you hear in speeches or read in sappy stories about how “My parents made me who I am today”. So seldom, however, do you hear about how children changed their parents, and made them into different people as well.

When you both were little, and whining for the millionth time about something completely ridiculous, I won’t lie and say I may not have wished for you to grow up. That I may not have always appreciated little hands and little voices. I can honestly say though, that this is the only regret I have of being a parent: The regret of knowing that I could have been a better one.

And now you are both grown (or almost so) into amazing, smart, funny, loving, generous beautiful adult souls. You are responsible, contributing members of society, hard working and learning the “cost of toilet paper”, as my own mother used to say when talking about the responsibilities of being an adult. I am thrilled and proud that you grew up exactly as I had hoped – to be determined enough, strong enough, and confident enough to be independent.

But there is more that I hope you have learned, and it is this:

At the end of the day, what matters most is the people you love, the people you come home to each night. It’s not how much money you make or what you do for a living. It’s not how much education you have or who you know in high circles. It’s not the conquering victories or the humiliating defeats. It is your family. Your friends. Your loved ones.

The people who stick with you when you are happy or sad. Angry or bad. Succeeding or failing. Poor or rich. Sick or healthy. Living or dying. The ones who wipe your nose when you are sick. The ones you celebrate birthdays with. The ones you drive to the emergency room at 2am. The ones who hold your hands so you don’t choke someone. The ones you change your plans for. The ones you change your mind for. The ones you love without condition. And they love you back.

When you were little, the best gift your Dad and I tried to give you was our love. And you gave it right back to us, pressed down and overflowing. And that is truly how you changed me and made me who I am today. A mom, who cherishes and loves you, without rules or conditions, thrilled and proud to celebrate you, just for being you, on this Mother’s Day and all the days in between.

May God bless you and keep you all of your days.

Mom