So, I’m an OK mother—Cranky, Whiny and Punch seem to be surviving. Honestly, were I grading my parenting, I would give myself a B, which is weird because I always have been an A student.

But when it comes to parenting, I do tons of things wrong navigating these waters: I let them have whatever they want at Schnucks to avoid a scene, I bribe them, I lie. I mean, not the Santa stuff, I really, really lie—You know that kid who lives behind us? He drank and drove, and now he is dead.Yeah, that kind of lying. So something that Punch said yesterday called for a little bit of navel-gazing. He said,Mom, you know you never get mad?

Well I have never been so insulted. I get mad—super mad. I am insulted, and that makes me furious. Then I thought about it: What makes me mad? Bear in mind I will have a teenage driver in six months, so the list is going to change. Oh, and trust me, this is petty, petty stuff. I mean, I hate natural disasters and plane crashes, but on a day-to-day basis, here are things that make me mad: 

I am mad that Channing Tatum has a film career.

I hate the word 'ointment.'

I hate cell-phone chargers. No, I actually like them; I just wish we didn’t need them.

I am mad that people think Robin Williams shines in dramatic roles.

I hate The Neighbors—not my neighbors, the TV show.

So there. I can get mad—really mad. Fortunately, Cranky, Whiny and Punch are not the source of my rage just yet…yet. I will keep you posted.

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