Dear Children: Entitlement

20140206-210911.jpg

First, let’s start with the definition from Google. Entitlement: “The fact of having a right to something.”

The FACT of having a right to something.

Oftentimes, we confuse opinion with fact.

There are going to be moments in your life, Dear Children, when you are going to feel entitled to have something. And that is okay. That is human. To feel like we are sometimes owed something, even if we are not. I, myself, struggle with this all of the time. You, yourselves, struggle with this. Remember when we go to the movies and the feeling you get when I sometimes refuse to visit the concession stand? That is the feeling I speak of. Or when your teacher decides that there will be a pop quiz and you feel that you should have been allotted more time? That, too, is an example of what I write of today.

I often feel entitled to a cookie after vacuuming the house. That cookie is my reward. I earned it. I singlehandedly fought the floor for its hold on dandruff, dirt, crumbs, and flakes. And I won. I schooled that carpet. It owed me.

But do you see how ridiculous that sounds?

I mean does a carpet really owe me anything? Or do I owe the carpet a right to be clean? Or dirty, if it wills. Is the carpet entitled to be as dirty as it would like to be? Is the vacuum entitled to refuse to clean it?

And so you see, children, how very, very tricky the word “entitlement” can be.

Now, imagine we are not talking about one human being and two inanimate objects, but rather three human beings instead. Can you imagine what the world would be like?

I imagine it would be a constant shriek and rumble of these three sentences:

“It’s mine!”

“I earned it!”

“I got it first!”

I recently went somewhere and I was appalled by the behavior of persons that would call themselves adults. And I was appalled by my own behavior. Because I sat there for a time and agreed with those people.

Yes, you are right. We do deserve this. I found myself nodding in agreement. I was entitled to be mad. I was entitled to feel that somebody owed me. I became a wretched human being. I heard, This is what we were promised.

And Everyone knows you can’t break a promise.

I went into the situation feeling very entitled. And I left feeling disgusted. And confused.

Because didn’t I have a right to feel this way? Wasn’t I entitled to it?

I decided to break it down to avoid confusion. For both myself and for you.

Here is what you are entitled to:

A lawyer if you are arrested (and an inconsolable mother if that is the case).

An opinion. As long as you recognize it is not a fact.

An item if you purchased it.

The air you breathe if the Earth allows it.

Your feelings.

A refund if it states so on the receipt.

Your Constitutional Rights as provided and dictated by the law.

To be compensated for the work that you do. Except for volunteer work.

To make your own decisions when you turn eighteen.

Your body.

That about sums it up.

Doesn’t it seem like there should be so much more?

Unfortunately, there is not.

And that is what leads to the chaos that is that word.

Because everyone thinks they have more rights than they do. They are entitled to more.

The world is full of entitled people. Who are raising entitled children. Who will grow up to be entitled adults. Each of them, kings and queens of their domains. Each of them entitling each other to be the best. Have the best. Fight for the best. Because it’s their right.

Who am I to think any differently?

Shouldn’t my needs come before his/hers?

Because I earned it. I got here first. It’s mine!

And around we all go on this ferris wheel of words. The unfortunate repeats of the “I’s” and the “M’s.”

Until the whole world explodes with the Me’s. The Mine’s. The I’s.

It is not a coincidence you can find all three of those words in the word, “entitlement,” itself.

It is corrupted.

Corruptible.

Corrupting.

Other words that can be found in “entitlement”:

Lie

Need

Intent

Mitten

Just wanted to see if you were paying attention with that last one.

I will have many more opportunities to redeem myself with that tricky word. And more probabilities of failure. And you will, too.

It seems as though us humans are wired to feel this way.

Much like the vacuum cleaner that was wired to clean the floor.

I will try harder in the future to fight my programming.

Too often when I feel I have the right to something, it turns out that I am entirely wrong.

Even the word “entitled” feels entitled.

Entitled often insists it is the twin of Deserved.

It is up to you to be able to spot the differences. They do, too often, get confused with each other. I will give you a few clues.

Deserved is the one without an “I” in it. And it is usually standing next to Earned.

Standing next to.

Not hiding behind.

May you make the right choice and not demand the choice as your right.

Love,

Mommy

20140206-225430.jpg

* My children read my blog. Which is sweet. Very sweet. But I also want to know that they are learning something from me besides simple recipes and pretty clothing. These letters are real letters to my children. From their mother. You might not agree with my message, but please respect my sentiment.

Dear Daughter: The Happening,

20130802-182346.jpg

I have a secret tornado that swirls in my chest at night. It twirls through my heart and stomach. Back and forth. Again and again. Until it finally dislodges the lump in my throat. The storm turns to rain. Will it ever not be cloudy when I think of you leaving me? My sunshine. Gone.

I tried to write this during the day, but much of what I want to say to you only comes to me at night. When the comforts of the day are gone. When it is quiet in the house. The darkness staking claim to my thoughts. Allowing my mind to wander to circumstances that hide from the light of day.

At night, I lay awake and the “what ifs” come tumbling into me. But the “what ifs” are not as scary as “the happenings.” Things that are going to happen that I desperately wish were not. At least the “what ifs” might never happen.

But “the happenings” are true. Not nipping at my mind like the “what ifs.” They have a cocky sureness that is unnerving. They do not call for attention. For they know they do not need to. No need to make a fuss. No need to stamp around my mind for a glance or a scratch. They are solid. Always there. They know attention will be brought to them however they act or proceed. So, they lodge themselves comfortably in my throat. Escaping only through hot tears that trail down my cheeks into my pillow in the night.

Now let us address this happening. The one that keeps me awake at night.

Unable to swallow.

It cannot be ignored any longer.

Each day that passes, I know that it is one day closer to you going to college. One day closer to you leaving us. You start high school in one week. “The happening” of it all is too much.

Where did all of the time go?

There are so many things I still want to teach you. Memories we have yet to create. You going to high school feels like a new door is opening for you. And I am desperately trying to keep it closed.

But it is one of those automatic doors. It has seen you coming. Felt your presence. It has swung open and there is no way for me to close it.

I just have to watch you go.

Hope that the years will slow down just a bit. Allow me to catch up. My heart is still trying to understand what my eyes have all ready realized. You are growing up.

I just want you to know…

What? What is it that I want you to know? Need you to know?

Let us start with the stupid little things: Cooking is not hard, as long as you follow the recipe exactly, the first time you make it. Never be late on a bill. Fabric softener is unnecessary. Always keep tissue in your purse. And breath mints. And a hair tie. And bandaids. And headache medicine. And your wallet. And lipstick. Okay, just keep a purse. And put everything in it.

Because you never know what life is going to throw at you.

Boys are going to break your heart. Some of them on purpose.

Girls will, too. Most of them on purpose.

People are going to disappoint you. I will probably be one of them.

You are going to disappoint people. I will not be one of them.

You are going to try for things. And you are going to fail.

You are going to try for things. And you are going to succeed.

Which of these outcomes you choose to dwell on will decide the course of your future.

But the most important thing I want you to know is: I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

And I want you to not worry about telling me anything, because I love you.

And I want you to not worry about life, because I love you.

And if you are ever in trouble, I love you.

And if you ever need anything, I love you.

I am so proud to be your mother.

I love you.

I realize you are just as nervous as I am for you to be starting high school. As much as I am dreading it, I cannot wait to see how you are going to handle your future. You are so clever and sweet. So beautiful and kind.

“The happening” is happening whether I wish it to or not. I can see it around the corner. Its form growing more solid with each passing day. It can now be felt in daylight, as well as at night.

I will watch you walk through those high school doors. It will “happen.” I have walked through them myself. I know the trials that await you. The victories, too. I cannot follow you. But I will still be behind you.

Every step.

Every stumble.

Every “happening.”

20130802-155558.jpg

* I have recently learned my children are googling my blog. Which is sweet. Very sweet. But I also want to know that they are learning something from me besides simple recipes and pretty clothing. These letters are real letters to my children. From their mother. You might not agree with my message, but please respect my sentiment.