Thursday, February 3, 2011


While watching TV in the breakroom this morning, there was a commercial for some kind of cage fight – two hulking, tattooed, sweaty and half-naked men punching each other in the face. I had a moment of panic: what if Fric grows up to be an ultimate fighter? Those men are someone’s sons. What happened in their life that lead them to punch and kick and be punched and kicked for a living?

Although I enjoy watching it, I think ultimate fighter is the male equivalent to having a daughter grow up to be a stripper or hooker. From a parent’s perspective of course.  Oh God! Double the panic. Kid #1 is an ultimate fighter and kid #2 is working next door as a stripper. This thought struck me with terror.

What can I do now as a mom to ensure that this never happens? I know that it’s unlikely as they’re growing up in a safe, loving home and probably most strippers and fighters had a harder childhood than my kids, or even I, could ever imagine. But what if?

Or what if they grow up to be something else that scares me? A bigot, a bully, a drug addict? While my fears have the best of me, why not throw in premature death by drunk teenage driving? How about sexual assault victim? What about a quadriplegic from a tragic sledding accident?

That’s it. My kids are never leaving the house again.

But then they could become bed-ridden 900 pound hoarders on a reality show.

There’s no winning this game of self torment. The good news is that these thoughts temporarily make Bailey endless “why? why? why?” a lot less annoying. Also, it is kind of cute when she dances on the bed. Then again, is that a pre-disposition for adult dancing??

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