My parenting skills might not suck that bad after all

I like to think that I'm a good mom.

My kids don't talk back to me and they don't lie for fear of me ripping their legs off and beating them with them. Not that I've actually done this, but the threat scares the bejeezus out of them.

They have good judgment. They proved that last weekend when I took them to the broke down mall to get new Vans. But the store had moved on and a tattoo/piercing parlor had taken its place. And there's nothing I hate more than making wasted trips, so I offered up tattoos instead.


Geez Mom. Can we wait until we're 15?

Thinking back, if my mom had opened the door for tattoos, the choices that followed in my teenage years wouldn't have seemed nearly as detrimental as they really were. I mean seriously, the only way to go from a dripping peach tattoo on your right ass cheek at 12 is up.

Am I right?

My rules are clear and concise. When I yell No Boys, No Booze, No Babies at my teenage stepdaughter as she's walking out of the door on a Friday night with her friends, she can't say that she didn't understand what I meant. I'm afraid though, that the rule will need to be broadened to accommodate my 12 year olds forthcoming choices to No Boys, No Booze, No Babies, No Body Art.

I try to make sure that they are culturally well rounded individuals. I can't help it if they'd rather watch iCarly over The Rocky Horror Picture Show. I said they had good judgment, not good taste.

I had a neighbor give me a Mom Compliment the other day. She was so impressed with how polite and patient my son is. It made my heart swell even though he clearly did not inherit those traits from me because I've found that sarcasm and manners don't mesh well and as far as patience goes, well, I have none.

So all in all, I must have done something right to get such good kids. But I'm not going to let it go to my head just yet. They're still young. I have plenty of time to screw it up.