You can't edit your family

Location: Home

Characters: Teenage daughter, opinionated 4-year-old daughter, frazzled mother and confused father, plus two NEEDY dogs

Time: A moment in a life

Scene: Teenager enters from her bedroom, eyes intense.

“You’re ruining my life!” she yells.

“Get in your room!” confused father and frazzled mother shout almost simultaneously.

“I want some apple juice!” pipes up the 4-year-old.

Pomeranian stands up to reveal a “present” she’s left on the living room floor.

Stop. I don’t like this scene. Let’s do a rewrite:

I’d like it better if the teenager said: “You are such a blessing in my life, Mom and Dad. I love you and I’m sorry I’m such a handful sometimes. I’ll grow out of it.”

“Why don’t you sit down and relax?” the 4-year-old could offer.

“Thanks, kids,” say frazzled mom and confused dad as they sink into their two big, cozy recliners - even better, massage chairs - with some sort of fruity drinks and big bowls of chocolate ice cream.

The dog could bring over the napkins.

If Scene #2 took place, I would feel like all my hard work had paid off. In reality, it will never happen that way. Life makes its own rules.

I used to work for a newspaper. Now I stay home with the kids, the dogs and the messy house. I’m realizing that, try as I might, I can’t edit my family. Deadlines are gone and life is a continuous load of dirty laundry that has to be washed so that someone can go out and make it dirty again.

I’ve tried to edit and rewrite our crazy household until everything looks pretty and makes sense. Until it’s readable and concise. Guess what, it’s still a mess!

I guess parents have to accept some of the “bad grammar” that comes in the form of crumbs on the floor and unexpected tantrums. As cringe-worthy as they may be, run-on sentences sometimes have to be left alone. They’ll work themselves out.

New scene:

Teenager enters with a phone in her hand.

“Can I go to the mall today?” she says.

“If you clean your room,” says frazzled mom.

“But I ...”

“Just do it.”

Teenager closes her bedroom door in a controlled slam.

“Can I have some apple juice?” says the 4-year-old.

“After I finish talking to your sister.”

“But I ...”

“You’ll have to wait,” says frazzled mom.

The 4-year-old wanders off to find her Dora toy.

Frazzled mom picks up a sock off the floor and notices a new stain on the carpet. She looks out the window to see the dogs wrestling in the backyard.

Good enough.