One day recently I was walking my 4th grader into school. Without thinking, I instinctively reached for his hand at my side.
My son flinched.
So obviously I had no choice but to make a big show of it: hugging him dramatically, kissing his forehead repeatedly, and calling him “Mommy’s little honey bear” within earshot of the safety patrol. You know, normal stuff like that.
And guys, so weird! He didn’t appreciate my Mommy PDA.
All jokes aside, I try really hard to be a good mom. I’m patient, rarely raise my voice, and try to focus on daily one-on-one time with each of my three kids. Each evening we have dinner around the table and most nights when I tuck them in their beds I feel pretty good about the parenting choices I made that day.
As we all know, nobody’s perfect, and I, my friends, am far from it.
I spend too much time on the laptop when I should be reading to them instead. I’m liberal with screen time and don’t always follow through when I make threats. And there are things I know I do that I can almost hear being repeated from a couch in a therapist’s room in, oh, about 20 years.
Who’s with me?
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