Its Not me its My Genetic Makeup

I have called my ex-husband a lot of names in the past, my favorite one of course is habitual liar. However, I have come to realize that the pathological liar gene is a sex-linked trait that is dominant on the Y chromosome, and can be passed down to future generations. When did lying to parents become ok? I mean I tell my little white lies: for example, no I am at the grocery store when I am really out shopping, or yes I am on my cycle and it will last for another two weeks. But when did my precious angels figure out that they could get away with lying.

The other day my ex-husband bought my oldest son another video game, to add to his super duper video collection. Of course he decided to show his behind after the money was spent, and was restricted from playing the game until my ex-husband decided to let him play again. Well Dedan wasn't having it that way, and decided that he would wait until everyone was neatly tucked in their beds, before going down and sneaking the video game from momma's purse. I wouldn't have caught on the next day if my son didn't keep telling me about how cool the video game was that his dad bought him the day before. Of course I asked "You sure know a lot about a game that you never played." The car fell silent, and he began to explain to me, that if he would have played the game this is how cool the game would actually be. I got him to admit that he played the game without permission, and he was punished. His father actually surprised me by agreeing in my brutal method for disciplining our son, and added on another day of no video games. I felt great, I felt like we had tag teamed him. I woke up this morning to find two wet beds. I asked one son "did you pee in the bed?" Then I asked the other the same. And of course Dedan responded, "Oh no mom I didn't pee in the bed that is watermelon juice on my pants." So is my son a fibber, or did he really wake up with underwear full of watermelon juice. I guess I can't blame him, its genetic.

Looking in the Mirror

Today, I spent 10 minutes attempting to convince my son why he should go to school when he believes no one in his class likes him. Of course I joke around, and tell him he is the coolest kid at the school, plus he has the coolest mom, "what's the problem. " But regrettingly. I push him out the door promising to visit him during lunch time, and bring a popsicle bribe to school praying that this will help my son get some friends. Before I so effortlessly threw him in the trenches, he told me how kids called his birthmark nasty, and said they don't want to play with him, and call him weird, and other names. I reminisce back to my own childhood, no friends, doing pantomime doing recess, and pretty much making cut outs with my sandwiches in the shape of people to talk to. As you can see the apple doesn't fall to far from the tree, but what can you do. What can a reformed weirdo, turned diva tell her seven year old son about the harsh world of school bullying? How can I help my son fit in? Or maybe he just wasn't meant to fit? I love my baby I love his weirdness. I know there is a pre-adolescent band camp somewhere I can enlist my son, so he is around people who appreciate his corkiness, and his need to faint when he doesn't get his way. I guess what I 'm trying to say is sometimes, and parents we spend days trying to fit into what others ideal for the typical mom is, or employee, or church member, but what we need to do is be ourselves. Embrace your flaws, and teach you kids how to love themselves for who they are.