That piece yesterday that everyone thinks is so sad, that’s a true story, I’ve done that.
I’ve had moments (a lot of them) when I don’t want to be bothered, or talked to, or shown things, or hugged.
Parenting is not for the weak, or selfish, or intensely introverted.
A lot of the time, I think, parenting is not for me.
I don’t always do a great job. I don’t always do my best.
I should be paying attention to every moment, but sometimes I ignore on purpose. Because sometimes I’d just rather not.
And if you say – you, you, you, you and YOU say that you would NEVER be that way to your child, then I would say: you’re lying.
So get over it.
We all fail a little bit every day.
No one, I mean NO ONE, is perfect.
No, not even you.
Elise, I’ve broken your heart a thousand times. Every little crack that runs through you has your parent’s names on it. That’s our job, to hold you, and love you, and fail you just enough for you to figure it out on your own.
But by god, kid, I love you.
I mean, I’d lay down in front of a train and die for you.
True stories of broken little paper hearts don’t always have to be tragic.
They’re just truth. They’re just life.
They’re just us, and we love each other, and that’s all that matters in the end.