by Billie Meyers

Created on: August 19, 2008   Last Updated: August 29, 2008

MELLOW MOM MEETS HELICOPTER PARENTS

"MOM, wipe my butt now!" These are the words to which I awoke Sunday morning. I was asleep in the perfectly neat room of my perfectly neat friend from high school. Our high school had planned a 25th reunion for this particular weekend, but we decided that we'd just rather visit with each other, my friend and I.

Our paths since high school couldn't be more different. She, after high school, went off to college and graduated with a perfectly practical degree and became very successful in her field. She's what I would call the artsy-fartsy type: she's very liberal, eats only organic whole foods, paints and exhibits her works (as a hobby), meditates, and actually follows through with the advice from the self-help books. She has a couple of regrets such as marrying a drinking bum the first time around and . . . well, maybe that's the only one.

At the age of 39, she with her new husband (very nice) had a child, now three. Their daughter is perfectly cute with her Shirley Temple ringlets. She doesn't have a shy bone in her body! She couldn't wait to make friends with me and my oldest daughter who accompanied me on the visit, and boy can she talk, talk, talk . . .

My girlfriend is the breadwinner of the household, and her husband is a stay-at-home parent. He's about ten years older than she, by the way. Both are very much used to leading unencumbered lives. This very precocious and adorable little girl has thrown them both for a loop, I think. They are 43 and 50 something, and they know way too much to be first-time parents.

My life, on the other hand, reminds me of the "Family Circus" cartoons in which little Billy, on his way to doing something (which he may or may not remember when he finally arrives), climbs a tree, jumps in a puddle, plays with the dog, etc. I'm not sure if I've arrived or if I'm still jumping in mud puddles. I've read most the self-help books that were on my friend's bookshelf, but for the most part, I've decided that me, WITH all of my quirks, is just fine. I refuse to take life too seriously!

The five of us went downtown for dinner. We were walking along the paved brick walkway when their ever curious three-year-old encountered a piece of poop from what had to have been a very large dog. Of course, she wanted to find out what the strange-looking thing lying there in the street was (what three-year-old wouldn't?) so plop goes her sandal-covered foot right into the somewhat fresh dog turd!

Stepping in dog poop is

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