Chicken Nuggets and French Fries are you CRAZY!

When I found out in May of 2005 that I was pregnant I decided right then and there what type of parent I was going to be. I was going to be the cool mom. I was going to be the mom that didn't care if my kid ate vegetables, went to bed on time, or dyed her hair black. This all goes back to how I was raised. I was the first child of four girls. My parents weren't by any means strict but we had rules and they were expected to be followed. Keep your room clean, get good grades in school, mind your manners, and do your chores around the house. These were not huge request on the part of my parents but for some reason I just could not do any of them.

As a toddler I showed my independence early by running away from her during a trip to the local mall to play by myself, nearly giving my mother a heart attack in the process. In high school I hung out with only friends that drove my mother crazy, got mostly C's and D's and decided that decorating my bedroom walls with graffiti and taking up smoking was a good way to spread my artistic wings. My parents did what they could allowing me the amount of creative leniency they felt comfortable with and laying down the law when necessary. High school was a struggle and I moved out as soon as it was over. Then I moved back in again and out again and in again, well you get the picture.

I moved out for the final time when I was 19. I vowed when I had children I was going to let them be whoever they wanted to be. I wouldn't care if they smoked or experimented with pot, died their hair funky colors, or decided not to go to college because being a waitress was a far better choice for a free spirit. I would let them eat sugary breakfast cereal (we weren't allowed) and junk food for dinner. I would let them dress however they wanted and not care at all if the primary color in their closest was black.

Fast forward to December 2005 when the most precious little angel was born, my husband handed me our daughter and I broke down in tears. I looked into her eyes and as she stared back at me, it hit me. I had been wrong, my whole life I had been wrong. I knew at that very moment that there was no way in hell I was going to tolerate black hair or bad grades and if she ever even held a cigarette I was going to ground her for the rest of her life. She would eat only nutritious meals and go to bed every night by 8:00. She would be athletic and eventually get a scholarship to Harvard, Duke, maybe Stanford. I was sorry right then for all the crap I had ever put my parents through. They weren't trying to stifle my creative energy or rob me of my need to self express. They just loved me and wanted my life to be perfect.

My daughter is 14 months now and my parents laugh at me all the time. My daughter is very smart and loves vegetables but she has a defiant streak that my Dad seems to find particularly hilarious. She goes to bed at 8:00 and she loves to read. I almost never let her have sugar or junk food although my parents also get a huge kick out of feeding her sweets behind my back, grandparent's right I guess. She is beautiful, funny, and teaches me more about myself and the world around me everyday. It's funny how I ended up learning more about life by giving birth to one then having one.

Learn more about this author, Erin Hackney.
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