Perfect Parent?

I’ve had insightful weekend.  Much of which was spent being lazy and stupid by speaking to my family.  My adult family, may I clearly say.  This adult family I refer to as my parents or sisters.  Not my children.  Definitely not my ex.

I’ve managed, for most of the past few years, to get along with my mother.  My father is easy to get along with for the most part.  He doesn’t like conflict, even more so these days since his third stroke.  He’s still the dad I always knew, but a bit more fragile.

Mom, on the other hand, has always been difficult for me, and I expected, as such, that I would perceived the same with my children.  But there is a difference.


I do not believe myself to have been a perfect mother, and I admit I was not and to my mistakes.


I could not be like my mother.  She called us hypocratical.  She is.  She still thinks she did the best she could and that we have nothing to complain about.  STOP… true.  But to be perfect means we would not have anything to complain about and every child, for the most part, has something to complain about … about their mother or their father…

What bothered me the most the other night while have a great conversation, but that went sour, was at the end of it my mother asked if I was drunk.  Question was because I called her on telling me I was a failure for not graduating from University with a career oriented degree.  I told I understood that.  She then denied she ever said it.  OK… I continued to say she did… and that DAD went upstairs to my room where I was crying and said she didn’t mean it in that way.  At that age “that way” doesn’t mean a thing.  I graduated.  With a BA.  In Art History and French Minor.  It wasn’t really where I wanted to be to begin with.  I wanted to go to a University to take Journalism.

I did end up with an Honours Journalism Diploma after my University, which I paid for with my own money.

All this was silly, but I just wish she would have admitted to remembering to say that.  Because it hurt.  So did mom and dad not showing up to my graduation.  But that then.

So I tried to explain this I understood why she said it because she wanted the best for me.  She would not listen to that… she only listened to the part that I told her she called me a failure.  SHE DID.  So just admit it.

But no.  She had to accuse me of being drunk.  I finally ended it with telling her I loved her and asked if she loved me?  She didn’t answer.  She hung up.  Nice.

I would never hang up on my children.. and if I did something they are hurting about, and I have, and they have told me… I apologize, and hope they will never duplicate my own failures as a mother… but they do know… biggest and far most… IF THEY ASK ME IF I LOVE THEM??? I would not hesitate to say YES… YES… I LOVE YOU TONS…

It ends a problem with a pillow that you can hold onto…. and know… parents and children will have their ins and outs… and that I likely said something to my children that hurt them… if they tell me?  I would say… I’m so sorry… and explain it if I can… or just be sorry if I can’t.  I like their honesty.  I like that they can talk to me.  Even if it hurts.  But we can’t learn to forgive ourselves for parental mistakes if we can listen to our children and say sorry, or as said explain… and resolve…. and let it go.

Perfect parent?… never… but we try… but we need to listen to our children when they become old enough to talk about their issues… listen, explain or apologize… it’s that simple.


About I Am That GAL

When times are hard, we tend to focus on the bad we did to others, or the bad others did unto us, yet it is in those times that remembering all the beautiful, great times is most important.