Two days ago, my older son and I had a conversation in which he expressed his desire to jump off a bridge, and I told him his dad and I had already discussed it and were not going to let him. He, of course, reflexively answered, “But all my friends are going to jump off the–” but then stopped and said, “Wait. You and Dad already talked about it?” I told him we had, and he thought for a millisecond and then whined, “I wish I didn’t have to have you guys for my parents!”
Wow. It had to have been the best moment of my week. (It was a rough week at work.) First, who *doesn’t* want to be told, essentially, that you’re the Worst Mother in the World? It’s a pretty decent sign that you’re doing things right. (At the very least, you know you’re not the mom who buys weed for her kids and smokes with them.)
But second, it was great that he just lumped us in together. Worst Parents in the World. United front.
I remember back when we were still together, that same child played LOD and me against each other twice in a couple of months. It was kind of funny then, but once we split up, it became a stereotype I just wasn’t going to succumb to.
So it makes me feel good that even while LOD and I are circling around each other warily during these negotiations for the Big Life Change, we can still stay on top of the normal communications and decision-making required to ensure that our children hate us.