There are a few things in this world that I can handle. You want to call me names; I don’t care. I know who I am, so have fun making yourself look like the fool. You want to bash my writing, or my car, or my house and job, I hope it makes you feel better once you get it all out because it doesn’t affect my day to day. I can handle anything you want dish if it pertains specifically to me. You can run your mouth all day about me, and I won’t care.
If you dare to cross the line of talking about my daughter or how I am raising her, the choices I am making on her behalf, then, my friend, you have another thing coming.
I cannot handle someone attempting to tell me how I should raise my child. I will not let you take another breath following your first sentence to even continue the thought you might have had on how I am choosing to bring her up. What I say for my daughter, goes. Period. Your opinions do not matter. Know your place because it isn’t here.
On the other side of that token, I welcome advice because I’ve never raised a child before. I will gladly listen to genuine recommendations, and may even seek them from time to time. I have asked many mothers before for their knowledge on certain aspects of motherhood, and I have received the best guidance.
But when your advice turns into chastising and demeaning me as a mother, we most definitely will have a problem. Do not argue with me when it comes to the rules I have set for her. Do not undermine what I have said. Do not bring up my daughter’s name or my parenting skills in any conversation with negative words.
If you do, the only thing you will walk away with as the result of this discussion is a clear idea of what a mother bear looks like, and I will be damn proud of it.