I don’t care about other mothers

Ripped.

Ripkcs1607

Fixed.

Pickingupskcs1607

Re-knitting.

Reknittingkcs1607

That’s all I have time for today, since I lost huge amounts of my morning to the drama involved in being somewhat embroiled in The TV Fight for the 48679th time in my life and I still have to do today’s writing work. (I say somewhat, because I find vague detachment from teenaged ire helpful.) Under my tyrannical rule (unlike, it would appear, the rules of every other mother in the world who are all nicer than and saner than me) it has always been that there is no TV in the summer until after 4 in the afternoon. This is because I think 8 hours of TV is unhealthy, and because I work from home and find the TV distracting and loud. For these reasons, and some others, involving physical fitness and stuff like that, I still think this is an excellent rule and there absolutely zero chance that I am changing it. (This would be the rub of the drama.) I have said this every single day of every summer since the kids began school… and they are apparently the worlds most tenacious kids. Therefore, we have The TV Fight.

There is no school. The sun is shining. If they have a day off work they can go outside. Read a book. Ride their bikes. Go to the park or the pool. Paint. Put away their laundry. Knit. Use their YMCA memberships. They can lie on the floor prostrate with grief and fury or lie on their beds writing emotional dark poetry about how much they hate me… and I can’t believe that out of all of those choices they want to have The TV Fight with me. I have never lost The TV Fight, and I am not starting today.

I admit, when they told me that all the other mothers and teenagers think I am crazy and mean as a result of my insane TV rules, I was swayed for a second. I also felt a little bit bad about being “the only mother in the world” with rules about TV watching, and I do feel just sick about demanding a well-rounded lifestyle while everybody else’s mother “cares about their kid” and isn’t blatantly “trying to ruin their summer”. Although I feel a burning heartache over “obviously not caring” if they are unhappy and “being a hippy freak mother”…

I can live with it.