My Real Life

I’m a liar.

A big fat liarpants.

My pants are on fire and there is no extinguisher big enough to put them out.

I don’t set out to lie to my monkeys, but sometimes the lies just sort of spill out of my mouth.

However, I take comfort in the fact that most of us lie to our children, so I am not alone.

And, they aren’t harmful lies.

So, no harm, no foul.

Right?

Lie #1:

“When I was your age, I didn’t have anything to keep me occupied in the car and I actually had to TALK to my parents!”

When I Tell It:

I tell this lie when the kids are rushing around, looking for a DS or some electronic gadget to play with in the car while we drive the 5 minutes across town to karate or choir or some other activity.

Truth:

I always, always had a book in the car.

I rarely spoke to my parents when we were in the car.

My Dad was always blasting 50’s music from the radio when he drove.  If I would start to have a conversation, I’d get to the middle of my sentence and he’d lean over and hold up a finger and say “Just a minute, Aim…I LOVE this part!” and if it was possible to turn it up louder, he would.  My sentence, my story forgotten in the magic of DooWop.

If my Mom was behind the wheel, it was hymns that were blasting from the religious station, and, quite frankly, I couldn’t get lost in my book fast enough.

My books were my saviors in the car and I never had to talk to my parents when we were driving.

Lie #2:

“The only way I was allowed to stay home from school was if I was dead!”

When I Tell It:

I use this one when someone is clearly not sick enough to stay home, but they are giving an Oscar-worthy performance.

Truth:

I stayed home from school a time or two.

I’m still kickin’.

Lie #3:

“When I was little, I would NEVER have complained about what my Mother made for dinner!  I ate it and I liked it!”

When I Tell It:

Whenever I make: beef stroganoff, baked mac and cheese with cream of mushroom soup mixed in, tator tot casserole

Truth:

Truth be told, my Mom was a pretty kick-ass cook when I was a kid.

However, when she made certain things, I complained.

Loudly.

I did have to eat it.

But I absolutely, positively, 100% did not like it.

Lie #4:

“I wouldn’t have dreamed of using that kind of language when I was a kid!”

When I Tell It:

When the kids are using questionable language.

Now, you have to understand that in our house, the “S” word is “stupid,” the “F” word is “fat,” and the “D” word is “dummy.”

Well, except for Monkey in the Middle’s occasional excursions into “damn-ville.”

So, it’s not like we’ve got a late-night cable show going on over here, but, still…we’re trying to put off the real bad language as long as possible.

The Truth:

Technically, NOT a lie.

I didn’t dream of using those words.

I said those words.

I said worse words than that.

I said them a lot.

There are more lies I tell my kids.

Lies like “Santa’s watching” and “If you just close your eyes, you’ll fall fast asleep.”

I also tell lies like, “I’ve never seen a drawing of a tree look so realistic!” and “That is the coolest rock I’ve ever seen!’

There are lies of omission: “Oh, I didn’t mention we had to stop at the grocery store on the way to the park?”

And there are lies to soothe the nerves: “Baby, no one will even notice the happy face drawn in permanent marker on the side of your face.”

It’s kind of a part of parenting that you don’t know is coming until it starts.

And once it starts, you, strangely, fall into it with ease.

Do I feel guilty about it?

A little.

Part of me feels like I’m teaching my kids to bend the truth to get what they want, but then I remember they won’t realize these were lies until they have their own kids, and they are telling the same stories and coming to the same realizations that I’m coming to, today.

Except for Santa.

Monkey Girl is cool with it.

But when Monkey in the Middle finds out, there will be hell to pay.

However, in the long run, do I think it’s going to harm my children in any way, shape or form?

Absolutely not.

Probably not.

No.

Right?