...I wish I was a little bit taller...

...it has come to this. I was hoping I would have had a couple more years until it materialized. It is an on going struggle of any parent trying to raise respectful, well mannered children. Children that seem to know more than any human walking the earth (Steven Hawking rolls, remember)...let's just say, I've approached some difficult ages. I was just expecting to see them 5 or 6 miles down the road. Problem is, the sign says buckle-up, it's the law...but wouldn't that inhibit me from flinging myself out of the vehicle properly?

I don't remember 'thinking' I knew so much at their age. At the age of 9, I still believed I had a sister named Sandy in the army (a very long story) and Santa...what a chump I was. A few of my kids, seemingly, know everything. Have an argument for everything. Enjoy debating everything. It's like an undeclared Olympic sport here on 815 Washington. It is exhausting. It is infuriating. It makes me look more longingly than I should at the liquor cabinet. Today, during one such debate/argument/confrontation, Nora walked into the room and said, "Positive in, positive out...". Schooled by a four year old...

It, especially today, has me mentally repeating the refrain of Skee-Lo's "I Wish" in my head..."I wish I was a little bit taller...".

I won't believe that I've come to the point that my word, unless yelled, means nothing. I won't believe that I will lose control of this house, and be steam rolled once again...but sometimes I believe all of that. Damn it, I KNOW I didn't speak that way to my parents, because I didn't ...I had two parents. I had the yin and yang that balanced it out. I love my parents, and when I was a kid there was a little fear there when necessary, which is what is sorely lacking in this house. That, and the ability to hear what I say, the first time I say it...I know, I shouldn't want a miracle.

So, here I am...while I already have the deep voice, I'm wishing I had an extra foot and 150 pounds on me to subdue the unwanted behavior. I wouldn't be able to fit into any of my pants, but it would almost be worth it! When you are no more than 25 pounds heavier than your oldest child, you're not really a threat- it's a lateral move. I wish that somehow, I could perfect a snarly glare that would declare "I'm not to be messed with" without saying a word. That's a tip you'll never pick up in a parenting book.

Even though I might fight the good fight in trying to raise respectful kids, it's not always winning the argument that declares the winner. There will always be debates. There will continue to be disagreements. The belt winner in these such matches, aren't either one in the ring. The winners are the ones who can walk into the room, like a chatty 4 year old, and basically tell you that you're both full of shit, and quiet down her show is on...and the issue is resolved, for now...