“Barbie and her boyfriend are sharing a bed…” announced my baby girl from upstairs, just as matter of factly.

“What did you say?!” I yelled up the stairs.

“Barbie and her boyfriend are sharing a bed. It’s a bunk bed, and they are both sleeping on the bottom bunk,” she explained.

“Oh, no they are not!” I replied.

Now, we are talking about Barbie dolls and playtime here.  This isn’t a teenager telling me what she is doing, or even what a friend is doing.  It really isn’t that serious, is it?  The heat rising up on my face from an unknown source told me something different.

I’ve been married about 10 years, and my oldest is… well… older than 10 – you do the math.  Something happened that no Barbie would be allowed to do in this house, so how can I say to her that Barbie and Ken HAVE to get married before they share a bed?

Well, this is one of the few times that I will invoke my right as a Caribbean mom so say, “because I said so,” and that be the end of it. Our blended family hasn’t been easy.  There are a lot of things that come with sex and babies before marriage that are complicated.

“Barbie and her boyfriend are NOT sharing a bed!” I yelled back up the stairs again.  “What is GOING to happen is – you are going to get Barbie and her boyfriend up out that bed, and get them married if you  want them to sleep in the same bed.”

“You and daddy sleep in the same bed.”

“…. AND? We are married. You want them sleeping in the same bed, you’d better start planning their wedding.” So she did.

Now that I have kids, I often feel like I am tip-toeing on that line between hypocrite and prophet. I wouldn’t give up a second of my life as the mom of my oldest.  My only regret is that I couldn’t give him an uncomplicated life story.  I don’t want my kids to go through that.  That’s fair.  That’s not hypocritical – that’s experience. “Do so, no like so?” Yep. That about sums it up.

Somehow she recruited her brother to help her plan what soon became an epic event. I ended up being the florist – but it involved scissors and markers so my job was soon taken from me.  I showed them how to make the bouquets for the bridesmaids and boutonnières for the groom and his best man.  Toilet paper trailed behind them as they ran up the stairs. Baby girl barked instructions, while her brother planned the proposal. They got really into it.  They had to get it done quickly so that they could share a bed, but it had to be done right.

There were flowers, a ceremony, dresses, bridesmaids, groomsmen, decorations, and a beautiful wedding – or so I heard – I wasn’t invited… not even to the rehearsal dinner.

Damb.