Hey, check out Samantha Warren’s website. It’s my first guest-blogging gig, and I’m excited!
Only someone who hasn’t had kids yet could believe that there will come a day when a parent will stop worrying about their children. My daughter actually laughed tonight when I informed her that I’m still going to be worrying about her when she’s forty (and older), whether she likes it or not.
It’s not something you can turn off at will. It begins the moment you find out there’s a baby on the way, kicks into high gear the second they’re born…and does nothing but pick up speed the longer you love them.
Why are there never any good songs from a mother’s perspective. Just pretend this one is, please. It says what I feel about my daughter.
That makes it really hard when those same children are trying to grow up and mature… and you see them setting a course that you’re positive will break their hearts. It doesn’t matter if they’re ten, fifteen, twenty-five…or forty. It’s our job to protect them, and it’s not a position we take lightly. Nor do we give it up easily. Or ever. I think we just learn to bite our lips and keep some of our opinions to ourselves as they get older. I don’t know about anyone else, but sometimes that lip biting really hurts!
Why am I thinking about this tonight? Because the guy who broke my daughter’s heart about seven weeks ago, the one who inspired my Gonna Drown A Guy In My Septic Tank blog, is back. And since no one under the age of twenty-five seems to be able to learn from the experience of older and wiser parents, I have to sit back and hope that my gut feeling is wrong.
So all I have to say to this young man who hurt my daughter is… Well, I’ll let the guy in this video speak for me. He says it so much better than I can.
The audio/video is a bit off, but this guy says pretty much what I feel.
I hope you paid particular attention to rule number 5, kid. You got to break up with her the first time. Next time it’s her turn. And I hope your heart isn’t just broken, I hope it’s shattered. I hope you cry an ocean of tears. I hope you join a Tibetan Buddhist Monastery and regret forever the treasure you lost.
If, by some miracle, you prove me wrong and are actually in it for the long haul this time, welcome to the family. Rule number 5 still applies.