I would like to start a support group. I am going to call it P.E.T.; Parents of Emotional Terrorists. It is really the perfect name because, A. who doesn’t like to be pet when they are going through an emotional shake down, and B. most pets are like little therapists when you are going through a hard time.
Don’t think this is something that needs to exist? Well let me paint a little picture of how our support groups will go; come with me on this journey.
First, each meeting will have refreshments provided. We will have boxed wine, cookies, and pizza. Maybe that doesn’t sound fancy, but hey we are a new organization on a budget. We will sip our Franzia, eat our Pizza Hut and Entenmann’s in a safe space while relishing the few moments of kid-free bliss.
Next, after we have enough liquid courage to share our tales of terror without giving a shit what Brenda thinks of us. We all know that bitch is in the group just to feel better about herself because her stories end up being all about her perfect daughter that never complains and gets straight A’s. We will sit in a circle and we will introduce ourselves and the name of our little terrorist. “Hello, my name is Colleen, and my 9-year old Brooke is an Emotional Terrorist.” Next we will all share our stories of torment or success. Like if I was sharing about my morning today, I would say, well Brooke started in tears and ended skipping to the car, while I started with a smile and pep in my step, and I ended crying in my car after the kids left while singing Les Mis, “I Dreamed a Dream”. Also I was thinking, I would really like to be pet right now. (See how that comes full circle?)
We will end our meeting saying the exact days, minutes, and seconds until college. We will laugh and know we all love our kids, but understand this shit is a battlefield. Also with the mantra, “Ride this wave because you are going to miss this someday, and until that day comes; wine”
The best part of our group will be spreading the word of our organization and support. We will have a special salute, which in my mind is a little like the three fingers in the air like in The Hunger Games. We will throw our hands in the air in solidarity when walking through a target, and some poor tired parent is dealing with a tiny terrorist demanding a toy even though that child most likely has 50 just like it at home, and will discard the one they “have to have” about 30 minutes after they are home. It will be our way of saying, don’t worry comrade, we know you aren’t the asshole, your child is. We are your brothers and sisters in arms, and we are here for you.
So that is the dream I dream today; starting P.E.T. Donations of Franzia and Entenmann’s are greatly appreciated.