"She is fourteen...,” he says, nodding affirmatively while sending out a slightly over-extended smile - I read: “...you know what I mean...!?” I smile compassionately and say, “Oh yes."
While I hear many stories, so far I had not that many to contribute. Teenagehood has been relatively smooth on our end. Doubtless there are lots of little moods and insecurities, but overall it has been a time of exciting firsts.
It helps that we talk. The relationship I have nurtured between family members is one of openness and sharing. Everyone has their ups and downs, their doubts and disappointments and it helps to understand that parents are not that different in that.
Trouble is, every child secretly holds on to the image of the super-parent, the one who tells off the bully in the playground, the one who pops out the magical pill when there is a bump and takes an interest in every little bit of their lives.
Seeing parents struggle with their own relationships or with the role they are supposed to play as parents is anathema. Parents should not question their purpose in life. They are parents!
Recently I had to point out to my sixteen-year-old that the societal construct of “motherhood” is not an easy one to come to terms with. Saint and satan in one.
I am still waiting for her to resurface.
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