Before embarking on parenthood, my husband and I easily agreed on the fundamental building blocks on which to raise our kids.  We are totally on the same page when it comes to manners, drugs, honesty, and education. There is definitely no chance for the kids to divide and conquer us when it comes to these basics. We’ve always been consistent and don’t deviate from this solid groundwork for an instant (they can smell weakness!)

What we never predicted were the more deadly guerilla wars we have waged against each other ever since! We have been undermining each other every chance we get, always hoping our own preference will win over the other’s.

Some battles are subtle…

I held a hopeful expectation that my kids would take after me and appreciate cracking a book and becoming engrossed in a captivating story.  Their piles of books make me proud.  I certainly watched them grow into a height that finally reaches the “must be this tall” mark, grooming and hoping that at least one of them would be my roller coaster partner because my partner in life refused.  He holds the bags under a shade tree while the kids and I stand in the extra long line to sit in the front.  A battle we both may have lost due to our over exuberance was their willingness to attend Broadway musicals.  The verdict is still out on that one and we have retreated to lick our wounds, praying we didn’t forever extinguish any flicker due to our overkill.  Alright, alright!  I’ll admit making them see Jesus Christ Superstar over 20 times was a bit much.  As expected, they rebelled.

Then there is the war…

The music war has been especially bloody and not subtle in the least.  Had my husband and I met in high school, it never would have lasted simply for the fact that I jammed to 80s pop and he listened to classic rock.  I run the iPod in the car but giving each other “VETO!” rights has prevented many fights.  In spite of active campaigning and exposure while trapped in car seats, I lost this war spectacularly.  Both of my kids think that my music is trash.  My son’s music tastes lean towards the more epic style, like movie themes, very cinematic.  My daughter’s playlist is a clone of my husband’s.  That stings more than I care to admit but I do find consolation in knowing that both of them know all the lyrics of every single 80s pop song, whether they like it or not.

Still, we high five each other when our kids make a reference to something we’ve (together or separately) embedded into their wee subconscious. We expect they will fight us but we also know that some of that is so deeply encoded, there is nothing they can do about it short of a lobotomy.

Ahhh, parenting!