It seems appropriate on Labor Day to share ten reasons the fruits of my labor(s) take issue with me – today and every day.
I am self centered and only think of myself.*
I didn’t teach them to drive.
While I don’t want them to struggle or fail, I want them to figure it out.
They are expected to clean up after themselves.
All three of my sons had/have genetic anomalies. Obviously, that’s my fault.
I still want to know they’re safely at home at night, but micromanaging their lives is something I’ve never been interested in doing.
My response to a raised voice is silence.
The tolerance I have for lies is basically nonexistent. Own it.
While my children are the biggest gift to the world that I can ever imagine giving, I don’t imagine they’re my only eventual legacy.
I call them on bullshit and don’t believe they are perfect. How could they be? Their parents aren’t.