Dear Sister:
Poem By Dana Young
I don't understand your love
Your desire to be friends above
All else
Even parenting.
To give in to tiny demands from maturing voices
Who reach out with suction like arms
Taking all that you have to offer greedily.
Bringing it in to themselves and then
Regurgitating it back out as ingratitude.
I cant stand your desire to dress them in clothing that deceptively reveals their age as legal and capable of making adult decisions.
I dont like the situations you allow by your desire to defend your inability to be an authoritative guardian
Instead of one who kindly speaks of treasures and fun and the latest gossip
That even US weekly would be envious to hear.
I dont believe the way you let them talk to adults or behave in ways that are far too grown.
Like the way they express themselves to you and demand details of your personal life,
As if they walked the years with you, one memory at a time.
Your lackadaisical style of parenting worries me. I see so much greatness in them but i fear they wont make it.
That youll send them to a store alone or on a great walk to school alone or allow too much freedom online and we wont see them again.
I'm always worried.
Why arent you?
Are you that blinded by the dangers of the world or is your life and fun and free time with your male visitors more important then the welfare and raising of two beautiful and still very young girls.
That need your guidance and full attention the older that they get.
Who need the reassurance and love and leadership of a stable and patient parent.
Who need to understand right from wrong and actions and consequences.
Who need to know proper etiquette is more than how to push curly, kinky hair into semi neat pony tails
Who need to know how to handle themselves in life and in relationships.
Without having an example of a mother who changes men like clothes that are worn from day to day.
A mother who exposes her children to the reality of men and their desires
Who watch the daily march of big boot men walk in and out and I'm sure they hear the continuous squeaks of her bed, hear the shower running as evidence of adult fun is washed away.
Hear the voices of the "nth man of the house.
Another undefined uncle.
