White lies are better than moldy skidmarked truth

I don’t think I know much about my kids.

Wait, that’s not accurate. I know everything about Lucy.

But that won’t last long. The clock is ticking on that one.

My other two are complete mysteries, and I kind of hate it.

My hate has nothing to do with them – I suppose it’s actually all me.

Growing up, I never told my mom all that much about my life. I was always really afraid she’d flip out and tell me I was going to hell or make me go to some special church class or something. I actually did get punished that way once – my mom found out that I’d skipped school, and I had to spend every afternoon for like a month sitting in my room writing bible verses. I was a senior in high school.

So yeah, Mom and I never had girl talks. We talk more openly now, I’m older and she’s older and we can both admit I’ve had sex since I have three kids.

But I’ve always wanted to be a friend to my kids. To answer their questions and be honest with them, and be able to have a relationship with them that ensures that, in the future, they’ll come to me for advice. A ride when everyone is drunk. Clarity when their hearts are broken.

And I do try.

But I fail. For lots of reasons.

Max is just so…awkward. I love him dearly, to bits and pieces. Truly. But talking to him is like talking to a miniature Michael Scott. It’s painfully uncomfortable at times, even though I realize his mind is very different than mine. I need to work on understanding him more. I’m sure it’s fascinating to go through life as Max.

Ava is, I think, a lot like I was when I was little.

And that. Terrifies. Me.

I was sneaky. I was dishonest. I had terrible judgement. I had such a hard time.

I want to make it easier for her, but I don’t have any clue how. So I think I subconsciously pull away. Which is the very opposite, I know, of what I should be doing.

Wow. Writing all this stuff and seeing it in the light of reality makes it sound….awful. Which I guess it is.

I ache to be good at being a mom, especially since I legit suspect that I love my kids way more than is normal. I’m just terrible at showing it. I mean really, awful.

Maybe I should take some sort of class. My child psychology class came with a virtual child (yes, it did. So not only to I get to suck at raising three kids with a pulse, I get to have another one to go all A.I. Haley Joel Osment). Think that’ll help?

4 thoughts on “White lies are better than moldy skidmarked truth

  1. I think we all want to be close to our children, but there comes a time when they do venture off for various reasons. I think we just try not to mess this up too much and try to protect them as best we can.

  2. I don’t think there is anything awful about your post at all. It is honest and I imagine what you are going through is natural.

    For some reason this exact thing has been on my mind lately. This is strange for one simple reason: I don’t have any children yet. I very much want to and am working my way toward that possibility (getting off medications that are holding up the whole process), so I guess that is why the whole parenting thing is on my mind.

    I would like to give you a virtual hug and say I think you’re doing a great job. You SEE where each of your children are right now in their lives. The scary thing is that you are not as big of a piece of that as you might have once been. I think in recognizing that and owning up to it you have readied yourself to jump on any and all opportunities to connect with each of them when possible.

    You just keep trying and don’t give up! Just as you have found your connection with your mother, your kids will find you, too. You are their Mom after all and they only have one of those!!

    Great post. Thank you for sharing :)

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