Listen you two, I know you detest being parented and I am so very utterly sorry, not sorry about that. I know you think you wish your dad and I would just checkout already and let you go about your merry, teenage way. But I know better.
One of my parents did checkout, and I promise you when that happens, it’s way, way worse than being parented. And I promise you that you will never have to know that first hand like I do. I will always bear the scars from the acute parental apathy and disregard in a parent deciding, “I can’t even.”
What you think are your own scars, from being parented, those are not scars, they are the marks of love. Because being parented means you’re being loved.
Love is absolutely where we parent from. Not from perfection, or right on the money type accuracy and surely or foolproof wisdom, but definitely and always from love. We get a lot of things…