I was an old kid. I was a weird kid, bookish and awkward (but hilarious, seriously, I think I was very funny) but I spent most of my time with my parents and their peers. Adults have always made a lot of sense to me, not so busy with chasing each other with bugs or making extensive lists of “Boys Who Are Cute”. I had a list, but Reagan was on there… anyway. I was odd. I am odd.
I tell people, “I have always been 40,” and that is not true in a numerical sense, although 40 seems to be gaining speed as I cruise through my 30s. But I was an old soul and then I got married young and tragedy hit repeatedly through my 20s and now I am old.
So I’m just going to be old here and say something to all you youngsters, and that is, none of us know what we’re talking about. We’re all winging it through life, trying to do what we think is right for our kids, for our careers, for our bodies and our relationships, and sometimes we hit gold and something goes right and so we write a book about it, like the formula will work for everyone. It won’t.
I’m not anti-advice. I’m not anti-parenting books or nutritional advice or relationship tips. It’s just that they mean less, the older I get and the more I realize we’re all screwed up a little bit and there’s no cure. You know what I mean? There was only one perfect guy and His book is a little vague about vaccinations.
I’m gonna dish out some advice, since that is the thing to do: love what you’re passionate about, teach from what you’ve learned, and give grace to everyone else to learn, too. Takes all kinds, y’all. Your life will be much easier if you are not offended by the way other people live their lives.
So if your friend feeds their child only jelly beans and they sleep hanging upside down like sloths and all of their clothing is made from foil, but they seem happy and healthy, maybe just bless them on their journey and love them for their weird selves and don’t try to fix them.
And get a haircut and a real job, ya darn kids.