We Can’t Be Friends

No matter how many times she says it, it irritates me to the same level each time. Usually the conversation goes something like this: “Morgan can you please stop?” followed by “Morgan, I asked you to stop, next time I say it you’re going to get a pop.” And then she responds with full princess girl attitude “FINE, then, I am not your friend” and tries to stomp away usually followed by “and I’m never going to be your friend.” At which point, my woosaw abruptly ends with a demand to come back in my presence.

When she slowly walks back, unsure as to the wrath she will face I sternly remind her that no I am not her friend. I am her momma a job given to me by God and that job is WAY more important than being her friend. Recently, I have found myself  having to explain and reiterate this same point way too often for my liking.

In fact, I was so excited to see a local author Toshiba Austin-Smith write a children’s book entitled “I’m Not Your Friend, Mommy” that I bought several copies for my ”friends” with daughters. It’s perfect for toddlers and momma’s standing in the need of prayer to deal with what I hope is just a phase. The mere title is comforting. I guess misery truly does loves company. Whew, so I’m not alone, you mean I didn’t necessarily do something wrong to give her the impression that I cared about being her friend?

Yeah, in that respect I guess I am old school. I honestly could care less about us being friends, at least at this stage in her life. The thing about being a mommy is, you only get one shot to get it right and we all screw up in some regard. My goal is to minimize my screw ups and lessen the load of issues in her luggage set she carries into life.

The book tells a short story similar to my example of a mom who has to remind her daughter of the important role of a mother to raise and “train a child in the way he/she should go” and ends with this:

Today, my child, I am not your friend. But I will be your mother until the end. I will help you learn all you should know. And as you mature, I will let you go. When you look back over the years, You’ll understand my dilemma and share my tears. Yet know that God was there to see me through. He showed me love, and I passed it to you.

Preach my sista. Now that’s real talk. So I really need my daughter to understand how unimpressed I am by her un-friending me at the drop of a hat. This ain’t Facebook, this is life. The idea of being in the same category as her acquaintances at school that share books or toys with her is insulting. I have no interest in competing with them. My responsibility in raising her is almost overwhelming and if she tells me that nonsense one more time… Heaven help us both!