Life Sucking Soul Crushing Mother Of Doom
2005-06-27, 2:32 p.m.

I am an ogre. I am large, green, foul, cross, and all things contrary and disagreeable. This morphing was sponsored by four words spoken to Daughter:

Sort through your toys.

It was been visibly and audibly loud from her camp that I am the bitter child-eating foe and she is the anguished, put upon, lily-white-hand-wringing victim.

Cleaning her room�and by that, I mean disposing of boxfuls of vermin attractants that have not seen the light of day in eons�is something imposed by the Parental Inquisition and is designed not for hygiene, not for comfort, not to make room for more loot. Nay, it is torture at its purest form, and therefore, must be met with rancor and resistance.

So, we had the �Parents Have Your Best Interests At Heart� lecture for the 3,472nd time.

Many moons ago, I was a teen. I paid the Stupid Teen Tax back then, and I want my children to have an easier go of things. I want them to dress cool (so long as �cool� does not mean �Baby Ho�), have good friends, go places, have fun. I want them to have their dream bedrooms, hangouts of tranquility, relative privacy, and good cheer. I want them to be happy and productive and fulfilled. Why oh why are my attempts to this end met with The Attitude?

Most parent edicts are designed to keep their kids, and their kids� belongings, healthy, accessible, safe, and convenient:

Why put the nail polish bottles away, in the right place, right away? Because sleepovers are more fun when you don�t spend the first two hours looking for the tutti-fruitti pink.
Why put your dirty clothes in the hamper? So Mom can wash them in a timely manner and you don�t have to run nekkid, which would be embarrassing.
Why put your dirty dishes in the sink or dishwasher? So soup doesn�t become a finger food, or you have to endure roaches scuttling over you on the sofa, bloated from a steady diet of dirty dish droppings.
Why do your homework? So you don�t grow up to be a blithering idiot, dependent on your parents for shelter, income, and transportation for the rest of your pathetic life.
Why can�t you hang out with that kid? Because we know better, we said so, and someday you�ll be glad you�re the one outside the prison walls.
Why can�t you pierce your nose/eyebrow/lip/whatever? Because you might not think that permanent hole is cool when you�re 30. Make decisions like that when you�re an adult.

And etcetera.

So Daughter settled down a tad, rummaged through her things, and came up with an entire boxful of crap to give away. It�s not much, but it�s a start.

BUT�she had, had, had to try me. When I walked past her to get the phone book, she snapped out, �Do NOT go in my room.�

�Why not?�

�Because it�s my room and I said so.�

So, in her room I went, and stood right in the middle. Why? Because I COULD. And thus began the �As Long As You Live Under Our Roof And Are Under 18 We Own You� lecture for the 3,472nd time. We will respect her privacy TO A POINT, but we reserve the right to enter and search anything we deem necessary at any time, to prevent moronic behavior that would cause her and/or us great stress and harm. Sitting in jail is no fun, and neither is shelling out bail, so if we have to ransack her room and ferret out suspected illicit things, we will. Not that she would do that, but the possibility�s there.

In other words, we reserve the right to be parents. And if being a decent parent means I have to be an ogre at times, then color me green.

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