I did a bad, bad thing the other day.
And it was the kind of bad thing where you know it’s bad while you’re doing it.
Let's start from the beginning: My 10-year-old daughter's desk is in our dining/art studio/homework station/office and when it gets messy, it’s a severe eyesore. It had been piling up with pounds of crap and looked like a scene from a post-apocalyptic Paper Source.
“Aria, can I throw this stuff away?”
“No. I still need it.”
“Um, OK but it looks like junk.”
“It’s not junk it’s my stuff and you’re not allowed to touch it.”
“OK, then please find a place for it.”
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But she didn’t. So after a week, when the piles didn’t budge, I decided to do damage myself. I poked around—string, staples, homemade bookmarks, barrettes, little of pieces of metal, rocks, candy wrappers—all garbage-worthy. And then, there it was… a spiral notebook with flowers, stickers and "Aria" in bubble letters on the cover.
This is highly classified information that no kid wants a mom to read.
Hmm, this looks like it’s in good condition, I thought. Let me take a look and see if it’s a school notebook or just an old thing we can toss.
I opened to the first page. Doodles: Little girls neatly dressed walking a dog, flower names of friends in various types of cursive experiments. I turned the page to discover something that went like this:
"DO NOT GO ANY FURTHER."
I did.
Next page.
"WHY ARE YOU LOOKING IN HERE?"
Because.
Turns page.
"CLOSE THIS BOOK RIGHT NOW, I SAID NOT ALLOWED!"
I did not.
I went on to discovery official “diary pages.” I started to feel sick but I couldn't stop. I read a few excerpts of what was for my daughter's eyes only.
My first thought: This is highly classified information that no kid wants a mom to read.
Second thought: But it’s me.
Third thought: What do I do with the info?
Fourth thought: I can’t tell you what I did next.
Fifth thought: Guilt and shame but what else is new?
Sixth thought: Forget everything I saw, never bring it up and carry on.
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Did I? For the most part. But let’s just say I do hint about what’s going on with boys and crushes and are any of the kids into that stuff yet? The answer is always “No! I have no idea? Not me, that’s for sure.”
Mmm-hmm.
Here’s the thing: To read or not to read? I asked my best friend who told me it was totally wrong. But she’s a goody two-shoes and does everything right. I want to hear from the Bad Moms. The ones who give zero fucks about what’s right and what’s wrong and usually do the wrong thing. Like me.
Do you read your kid's diary or would you if you found it? C'mon, this Bad Mom needs to know!
