Now before you go searching me up on Wikipedia to find all my credentials that might substantiate the grandiose claim I made in this blog title, hear me out. Raising kids has indeed made an expert out of me. An expert at realizing that I will never be an expert. And coming to that realization about raising kids, I believe, sets those of us with a realistic outlook of our capabilities miles apart from those who have decided they know *everything.*

You know who I’m talking about: the mom in the grocery store aisle who smugly smiles with a nod at a stranger’s compliment about how well-behaved her toddler is. As if she’s not praying to the God of all that is Holy that the same child who was, earlier, screaming at unhealthy decibels in the car would stay focused on her Annie’s Homegrown Organic Gummy Bears long enough to allow her to finish picking out the perfect mustard greens and cold-pressed olive oil. The mom who would sell her soul to guarantee an embarrassment-free shopping trip and jealous glances from strangers.

Or how about the parents who had read all the books and have an answer for every scenario.

• Kids should NEVER be lied to. (Shit. Failed.)

Anyone else feel woefully inadequate with the job of preparing and then releasing into the world  real.  human.  beings? The term “job” itself seems inadequate to fully describe the undertaking. (It also implies some sort of monetary reimbursement and I’m fairly certain money keeps leaching out of my bank account, not flooding in.)