Actually the prompt is…Talk about a time when you saw your mother or father as a person independent of his or her identity as your parent. WAIT A MINUTE~ they are something besides my parents? At Forty mumble, mumble, years old I’m supposed to believe that anything else matters more than the fact that they are my parents and my children’s grandparents? Sure they have lives outside of ours, sure they have jobs outside of my life, but come on; they signed an irrevocable contract, to be known as my parents the minute I came bustin’ into this world screaming. Good, bad, or indifferent, even through thick and thin, it isn’t my fault I didn’t come with a manual. Maybe they should have read the fine print. No returns or exchanges and the California lemon law does not apply!
Okay so maybe I’m a little older than most who realized in their teens or early twenties that their parents have a life outside of their children’s. But, am I really that selfish to want to believe in the magic of pedestals and the idealism of complete parental knowledge?
Truthfully, I can’t tell you an exact moment I realized my parents actually existed outside of my little world, but what I can tell you is~ now that I am a parent and in my forties, I’ve come to realized they were just as young, inexperienced and frankly sometimes scared just as shitless.
I am humbled by the choices they had to make for my brothers and me, I am grateful for the wool they kept over my eyes when life became hard, and I appreciate the values they cultivated in the garden of my soul.
One day, when my children are grown and are experiencing the blessing of parenthood, I can only hope they realize, their father and I did the best we knew how in raising them without a manual~ just like our parents had to.
Thanks for hanging out and reading my ramblings even if it is a little off topic~ I’ll write you later!
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