My Own Personal Hell

Sometimes, as parents, we have to do things we wish we did not have to do.  I’ve asked myself several times the past few years exactly where I went wrong as a parent.  There are no clear answers. 

And with that, I am currently on my way to my own personal hell.  Because I am NOT one of those parents who lives vicariously through her daughter to achieve the dreams she was not able to during her own high school years. *coughsomecheermomscough*

Ahem.

Seriously though, I’m going Anaheim, California to watch 15 as she lives the Bring it On dream.  In living color.  With all the drama and screaming and cheering and perky bouncy teenagers one venue can handle.  And if I live through it (because it lasts three days AND it’s across the street from Disneyland) - and I’m not an alcoholic by the end - I’ll blog about it kick some cheer-leading ass and accomplish Total Domination!  And I think we’re going to Disneyland too. So, yay. Double the torture!

And I’m going to try really hard not to glare at all those perky little teenagers and their Happy! selves over my coffee.  And I promised 15 that I would not embarrass her by wearing my Cheerleader = Death shirt. 

And I also promised that I would not let 13 stop any cheerleaders and show them the difference between a donut-hole and a cinnamon roll.  Because even though 13 swears she is NOT ever, Ever, EVER going to be a cheerleader - and even though she swears that she hates all things cheer (except maybe her sister, sometimes) - that girl picks up routines flawlessly after just watching once (which makes 15 seethe). 

So with that, we’re on the road until Monday.  Have a nice, safe, quiet weekend.