Mothering in an Age of Hypersensitivity

Despite my strong use of sarcasm and penchant for jackassery, I tend to have a relatively easygoing personality.  I often fly under the radar, never wanting to rock the boat, stir the pot, make waves and the such.  I am careful about the pictures I post of my family.  I am careful about the words I use and the situations I describe.  Which is why, when I recently got called out for a picture of my daughter throwing rocks in my yard, I was forced to reassess my viewpoint of things and consider how hypersensitive our society has become.

I won’t go into specifics and perhaps I didn’t clearly explain the situation in the initial post, but essentially I was scolded for allowing my daughter to throw rocks because she may have hit a creature by accident.  I was accused of being insensitive to animal rights.  Me!!  The chick who doesn’t kill spiders unless they are literally carrying a sign that says: “I Intend to Crawl Into Your Daughter’s Ear and Lay Eggs in Her Brain.”  Me, the same woman who apologizes when I hit a chipmunk or a mouse that darts into the road in front of my car.  (For real, it totally bums me out to know I just killed something, even a mouse that likely just crawled out of my very own basement where it was munching on my children’s toys.)  Me – the sista that cried her face off two months ago when I had to put down my 11 year old Rottweiler.  Cruel to animals?  Absolutely not!

It brought into the glaring spotlight the idea that it seems everyone has to have a cause, everyone has to judge, everyone thinks they have the right to tell you what you’re doing wrong or what you can be doing better to make sure that nobody ever gets hurt.  Ever.  Never ever.

But that’s the furthest thing from reality and I’d be doing a disservice to my children if I let them think that this is life.  You ARE going to get hurt, people are going to offend you and call you names and try to insist that their way is the only way.  What I need them to know about their mother is that I’m kind.  Yes, it would be great if everyone thought I was as awesome as they think I am when I give them candy for dinner, but I’m sure that will never be the case.  I want them to know that I never do anything to intentionally hurt another living being but that, being human, I have hurt others.  That is the number one thing I want them to inherit from me.  Not my stunning good looks, superior intelligence or ability to whistle through my nose.  No, it’s kindness that I hope they value in themselves.  It will cause them heartache over the years, but once they link up with other kind souls, it will be the greatest source of peace for their days to come.