There comes a moment (or three) in the adventure of life we call parenting that sends you to your knees in prayer, that rocks you to your core and makes you question what you thought you knew. I know this, as it has happened to me. And it has also happened to friends and family around me.

The perfect kid is never perfect, nor should they even be set up to be so. It seems likely in our busy, noisy, overwhelming world, our children and grand children will face some kind of negative situation much earlier in their life than we did. Hitting rock bottom and experiencing a dark night of the soul is becoming more a part of growing up than I ever thought it would be. Many of us adults have hit our own rock bottoms, but usually later in life, and to me it feels like today's children are falling sooner. Our youths have so much more information available to them, too much sometimes, to be able to make a clear headed decision about their future.

As a parent, instead of fearing this rock bottom, and doing everything in our power to divert our children from facing it, perhaps we should instead expect it will someday happen and prepare ourselves. We will need to respond with love, not react in fear, when the day comes. Without a clear grasp on who we are authentically, it will be difficult to remain calm, grounded, and settled when it is needed most. Our children are unique and separate souls, not extensions of ourselves. They need to make their own choices (good or bad). We cannot direct their life, keep them safe from everything they face, or smooth the road before them. We have to remember they are their own person and are on their own journey. No one can learn a lesson for someone else.

The world today is wide open with possibilities, and so it seems are our children. We cannot expect them to do as we did, or to follow along as we learned to do. I have made many mistakes as a parent. My crippling expectations of myself, my own mean voice, hurt my children as well. How could I expect them to be the best versions of themselves if I wasn’t embracing my true self? If we are to support our children in the way they need, with unconditional love, we must love and accept ourselves first. That means we need to find time to work on ourselves, to heal our own wounds, to embrace our imperfect selves, to forgive our mistakes, and to be comfortable in our own skin, no matter how busy and distracting life is. For many years I was caught up in everything outside of me and I let my connection to my true self go. If your sensitive and intelligent kids are anything like mine, they will know when you aren’t being authentic and “walking your talk”, and that will muddy the waters between you even more.

As our children grow up our job as parents becomes less about keeping them safe and more about helping them find their true and unique selves. The world is ever changing and our belief systems, or what we have been taught by generations before us, will likely not resonate with this younger generation. We cannot expect them to do as we did, or to make the same decisions we did. How different would my decisions and my life be if I had had access to the different perspectives and loads of information that is now available at our kids’ fingertips? The course of my life was directed by what was expected of me, not by who I was or what I believed in. Our world isn’t like that anymore and we need to accept that. What helped my family heal was for me to become comfortable in my own skin, to be authentic to who I was at my core, and to start leading by example and walking my talk.

I am not proud of some of my own parenting decisions, but I have mostly forgiven myself for those mistakes. I am very grateful I had the courage to lead myself out of the mess I had become, to show my children that it is not only okay to fail, it is inevitable, and how we respond after that fall is what matters. Learning from our mistakes is part of the journey.

If your grip is too tight, if your days and nights are filled with worry, if your expectations are never met, you might be showing your little ones too much of the dark side of you. There is still time to transform into the authentic you, to live in your true light, and to be a beacon of hope for them in the darkest times. I believe if you find your true self and reconnect with your own home base, you will lead by example and become the safe haven your kids need most.  

I've been on a cleaning streak this weekend. I am delighting in the feeling of releasing my junk.

In clearing off my desk I realize that I write a lot. Sometimes I run across things worth posting. Here's one I thought was. It is a letter "Nollie" wrote to her Momma at Christmas. A reminder to all women how important it is to be the best "you", you can be for those who love you. Even if that means taking time out just for you without guilt, or daring to risk failure by following your dreams, or letting the house be dirty while you stop everything to giggle & play.

Stay present with your littles, dream big, take chances, love fully. If we keep ourselves "safe" and live in the 'I wish I would have', our littles may someday do the same. Soar baby. Soar. You've got this!

Dear Momma:

My little hands and little heart want you to know how much I love and appreciate you. To me you are the most beautiful person in the world, and I love you unconditionally. You ARE my world. I watch what you do to know how I should be and count on you for guidance as I grow and learn. Until I am bigger and can talk with words, I can only give you my unconditional love and trust in return.

Well, that and my smile –the one I save just for you—the one that I hope you see reaches all the way to my eyes and lights up my face, and my sloppy open mouthed kisses that show you that I want to eat you up because you are so yummy, and my night time cuddles where I get so close to you that I can smell you and feel your hair and your soft face so that I can feel safe and take in all your momma love to fill me up.

I am growing up fast. I am learning new things. I will always need your help to grow into the best me I can be. Even when I do have words and we argue or disagree. I will always need you to be my rudder, to keep me on track. Right now I want you to read to me, play with me, sing to me, dance with me, explain the world to me the way you see it and I also want you to teach me to dream, to write, to draw to create, to imagine and to tell me that I can be and do anything I choose to. Just like I know you can also achieve anything you really want to do or be.

I want you to also know that you never have to be anything more than “you” around me and I will always be proud that you are my momma. Because I will always love you. Unconditionally.

Some days I know that I challenge you, and as I grow I will probably challenge you more—just like some day you will challenge me. That is the way it should be. With unconditional love, we can be truthful and honest and agree to disagree and that is okay as long as we finish those moments with love and hugs. We will not run away from the tough stuff, we will face it together. That way I will know that it is okay if I make mistakes, and that you will still love me and believe in me, and so I can show you that it is okay if you make mistakes, too.

I know you have things in life you want to accomplish and for that I am so proud of you. Someday I too will have big things (bigger than walking or talking) that I want to accomplish also. I know you will be there to help me through, just as I am here to remind you that you are loved beyond measure and that you can get through anything with me at your side.  Some of the things we want to accomplish will be easier for us than others. I want you to know that I will be here to support you (and know that you will be there to support me, too) even if that just means holding my hand as I grow brave. To wipe my face, clean my poopy diapers, brush my hair, paint my toenails, teach me my colors and my numbers, show me how to navigate the world as my own person. Together we can be each other’s strength.

If things get tough for you I hope that you will feel my little hand in yours, giving you my love and support and encouragement for you to keep going. No dream is unachievable, no wish too great for you to receive. Hold hope, faith, and love in your heart like I will, and together we will be unstoppable.

I count on you to care for me and to inspire me every day. You will always be my sunshine. My comfort. My safe haven. My beloved Momma.

Remember to take care of yourself and be the best you you can be to show me the way.

I love you Momma with all my heart and soul. Thank you for being the best and only Momma for me.

Nollie, Dec. 2015

I haven't written anything about my grand baby in a while.

I don't often even say the words ''I am a grandma" or "I have a grand baby."  So most people I meet never even know. I would like to talk about it more, but I don't feel I have much right. You see, my "baby" created a baby and ultimately gave him up for adoption. It could have been a devastating thing, but by some miracle it was an open adoption, and the adoptive couple is gracious and inclusive and a perfect fit for little Ford. We get to see him. Joy of joys.

I've been keeping our interaction 'close to the vest" as the saying goes, not because I am embarrassed about what happened, or worried what others will think, in fact I am really proud of the decision my son made in doing what was best for his child. I am not sure I would have had the courage to make the same decision myself. I am simply not sharing because it hurts too much. It's an open wound.

I suppose I hide it fairly well, my inner sadness that is, but it doesn't stop it from lingering.

It might always be there. Like a hole in my heart. A wish unfulfilled. A dream that crashed and burned. You know, one of those feelings. I am strong enough not to let it rule me, or hold me back, but it when it surfaces, it is painful. Raw. Open.

It used to be that every time I saw a photo of Ford it made me tear up. It isn't like that anymore. I still feel the tug, but it isn't sadness exactly that immediately rushes to the surface--Ford's happy smile in Facebook pics never fails to fill my heart with love, awe and gratitude. But that tug, the one I experience in the area of my heart when I see his picture in everyday life---feels like a sadness, for at least a minute or two.

Until I bring the focus around to him and his happy family. And remember that this is the way it is supposed to be.  And all is well. This isn't about me. Even though it sometimes feels like it is. It feels like a direct sign that I have been judged and have fallen short, so now I have to suffer this loss of my grandchild. Kind of like a punishment for what I should have done, what I should have known.

I know the "tug" I feel is selfish in nature. Self-critical. A waste of energy. But it doesn't stop it from happening. It is a powerful combo of regret and resolution, and a resignation that I don't get a second chance to do it right with Ford.

Ford will never be fully "mine" in the way I wish he could be. It just wasn't meant to be the way I dreamed it to be. He has a couple of other grandma's who see him regularly, who babysit him often, who get the sleepovers and the vacation time I crave with him.

Parenting is a huge responsibility and I have never been anything but conscientious about any responsibilities that have landed on my plate. Problem is, I got too caught up in doing parenting "right", by the book as I had been shown and taught, and I forgot to make time to  enjoy it.

I forgot to have fun. It should have been fun, darn it. But that is not what I remember... and my kids and husband probably don't remember it that way either.

Oh don't get me wrong, I could have done a worse job. I am not saying I was a complete failure, I did manage to keep everyone safe and clean, accident and germ free (for the most part), but I missed all the little precious moments that I can never get back. The moments of being. Of appreciating. Of enjoying. And somehow I allowed my children to think that they were not good enough, as they were. My focus was always on the future... an if you would have done this, then this...kind of a thing. I was taught that from a young age. It didn't serve me. And it didn't serve my children.

Ouch. Ouch. Ouch.  It was so wrong for me to continue that belief. So far from the truth of what is really important.

I have lived 50 years with a mean inner critic. She isn't about to sit back and not take the opportunity to scold me about this. I recognize that I wasn't the best parent I could have been. I know I had the right intentions, but my execution sucked. While I am not one to dwell on would've, could've should'ves---I would take a do over if I could.

Knowing my grand baby is not really mine and that I won't get a second chance to do it right with him, makes me sad. Really sad. Unexplainably devastated. Because I want(ed) another chance to do it right.

I give out a lot of advice these days. To others. And I firmly believe in living your truth. The good parts and the bad. So I get it. I know I have to be okay with acknowledging that I tried my best with my kids. It might not have been good enough, but it was my best. I did it with the right intentions. With love. 

And I have to be okay with knowing I won't have the luxury of fully being Ford's grandma and learning to appreciate his little habits and quirks. I once imagined having lazy days of babysitting where I'd get to be 100% focused on my grandchild, without any distractions and free from the responsibility of doing it right. As a grandparent it wouldn't be all up to me--I could be the kind of person I always wanted to be.  I could Spoil. Meander. Play. Indulge.

But it isn't meant to be. Not yet.

So parents...spoil your kids with your time and love. Love every second of your time with them: the good and the bad. Savor those sleepy weekend mornings, the movie time snuggling (even if it is for the the 50th time), and the slow walks in the woods. The ones where you never actually get anywhere. Let your kids get dirty, play in the rain, and stay up so late they see the moon. Let them wear mismatched shoes out in public and not think it is a reflection on your ability to parent;  let your kids instead be proud they dressed themselves.

Live in the moment. Your example of living in and acknowledging the "now", will be so much more important than keeping your house clean or getting the laundry done.

I see so many young parents doing it right these days and I am so happy for them --and at the same time sad that I wasn't smart enough to have done the same.

Stop trying to follow the advice of your parents and grand parents --chances are when they do become grandparents--they will be attempting to make up for the time they lost, too. Trying to right wrongs they were taught to believe in.

What I would do differently.

Show your kids by example what is really important. Listen to them. Answer them to the best of your ability. Align your words and actions. Spend time --QUALITY time--with them, sharing everything you can. Stop making a plan for everything, instead give yourself time to just enjoy the moment. Even if the moment has you feeling frazzled, tired, frustrated, or exasperated.  Learn to appreciate that you will never have that moment again.

Be present, and also be the best parent you can be in the present moment. Don't save your best self for an opportunity for a do over with your grand baby that may never come.

I understand that my adorable grandson is exactly where he is supposed to be, and with who he is supposed to be with. That makes my heart happy, and now most of the time when I look at a picture of him, it makes me smile with joy that at least he is in my life. No matter if it is different than I once thought. No matter that my do over, my second chance will have to wait.

Related posts: 

http://get-off-go.squarespace.com/blog/my-heart-is-full

http://www.getoffgo.com/blog/the-view-from-here

The theme for weeks now has been letting go. And I am doing a pretty decent job of that. So far I have let go of worrying about my grown children --and instead say prayers to keep them surrounded by protective light and positivity. I have let go of doing, and have moved toward just being. I now after years of constant motion, finally allow myself to relax and say "no" when I feel the need. When a to-do list (former accomplishment freak here) begins to take over my head, I breathe deeply and just think of the most immediate thing I need to do, and I start (and sometimes even end) right there.

Perhaps the hardest part of letting go is watching those I care about in various stages of suffering and recognize that unless I am asked, it is not my deal to fix.

My "spidey sense" always sees right down to the heart of most matters, and it always sees possible solutions. I've come to learn that just because I see a possible solution does not mean I need to do anything about it. That part is the most difficult thing to let go of. I hate to see people hurting and I want to help, but I also have learned the hard way --it is not my deal. Everyone has their own lessons to learn, their own journey to take--just as I have mine.

I wonder if some people's ultimate life lesson is to learn to be vulnerable enough to ask for help. To stop trying to do things all by themselves and to be open to considering things from another perspective. I especially wonder this when I see people miss multiple opportunities to learn a lesson, and repeat the same mistakes without much growth or awareness. Sometimes I wish they'd ask for help---and really be ready to hear what I have to say.

Being empathic and recently understanding that I can keep my energy separate from the energy of others around me, has proven invaluable in keeping my peaceful inner center and my focus more properly directed inward.

"This is me (drawing an imaginary circle around myself) and this is you (drawing the same imaginary circle around the other person). This visual helps me keep myself in check. Although I can feel your pain, and read your emotions, the responsibility to do something to alleviate that pain is not mine. Where I once used to take on your pain as my own, I now am able to feel it and discern it isn't mine, and let it go. At least for now. At least until you ask me for help.

Empathy is an interesting thing. So many years I lived and loved clueless that not everyone lived and loved in the same way I did. It all makes so much sense now. And, well, it brings up a lot of questions, too.

It for sure makes me sorry for sticking my nose in where it did not belong. For offering help when I was not  actually asked.

To my kids: I truly did not understand that I experienced the world differently.  I wanted to smooth the bumps in the road that I saw so clearly ahead for you. Silly me, I thought it would save you the suffering. I never meant to take away your power. I did not ever wish to make you feel less than. And I have certainly never stopped believing in you.

My years of barging through barriers are over. I plan to stay centered, yet ready to help when I am asked. I'm here if you need help. Always. Because I have "let go" does not mean that I love you less, it just means I recognize that your struggle is YOUR struggle. Your lesson. And I cannot learn it for you, nor save you the pain of living it.

Just know that I will listen without judgment, and provide an armful of solutions should you wish for them. I am here when you are ready.

It feels really good to finally get it.

The square of ice over my heart melted last night, and made its way down my cheeks and out through my tears, in its place grew gratitude.

Letting go of expectations is freeing.

A couple weeks ago I wrote a post about the View From Here and while I was writing the post I grieved for what I thought I had lost; another chance at being the kind of mother (in this case grandmother) I wished I had been the first time around. Never ever imagining that a grandchild of mine would be born and not be a part of our daily lives, I made the mistake of looking at the situation selfishly and concluding that it sucked. I concentrated on all the negatives, what things I would be missing out on-- the "do over chance", the cuddles, the opportunities to spoil him--all ridiculously self-centered things. I worried that this child might someday think his biological grandparents didn't care about him. Those thoughts left me feeling sad, guilty and like the whole situation was a direct reflection of the type of parent I had been (or had not been) to my own son. It is very much a reversion to an old pattern of thinking that has ruled most of my life -- and it doesn't make me happy to admit I slipped backwards.

Proof that we are all human and even though we "know" better, it does not stop us from repeating our mistakes.

It took my grandson's incredibly gracious adoptive parents to show me that once again I was taking the glass half empty view. Instead of recognizing that my husband and I did well to raise a child who was able to make a hard decision in the best interest of his own child, I chose to focus on the things that didn't add up to what I'd once expected. What I failed to acknowledge was the awesome opportunity my grandson has to live the beautiful life he deserves. I realize now how fantastic it is that my grandson will be raised by a loving, beautiful, supportive young couple, who have been in essence just waiting for him.

Yesterday I had the opportunity to spend time with the couple that adopted my grand baby. As they shared a meal and traded stories (and laughter) with my own family, I was able to hold my grand baby against my heart and smell his beautiful baby smell while kissing his soft head. That snuggle I had once wished for.. became a reality, a moment I will never forget. I can already it see it being a happy place I will go when negativity tries to weasel its way back in.

The universe works in mysterious ways.

l see now that life has been preparing me for this life event for a while. Having an "almost daughter", whom I love with all my heart, I know what it feels like to love someone else's child as your own. DNA is clearly not the only requirement for being a parent.

A few years ago I would never of had the ability to understand that someone else could love my grandchild as much (or more even) than I could. And yet I have no doubt that they really do. He is theirs and he has not only their glorious love to grow up with, but the love of their extended family as well. How great is that! I know that they will make sure he knows we care and will send pictures and share the important milestones so that we feel a part of what is going on, without stepping on the toes of his real grandparents.

How silly of me not to have looked at the glass half full side of this experience to see that this adoption would end up bringing great joy and healing to another family. Where there was once a heaviness in my heart, there is now a bright light of love and thankfulness for the experience. 

And anyway I slice it, that is progress for me.

...is not exactly what I expected it to be.

And for the record I'm not talking about the view shown here; that one is beautiful. I'm talking about the view from this place in my life, it isn't exactly what I once thought it would be.

Did you ever think about the kind of mother, grandmother, dad or grandpa you were going to be, long before it was actually time for it to happen? I did. I'm a thinker, a dreamer....I have always loved other people's kids -- I have infinite patience with them, so I once thought I would be a really good mom.

Only I wasn't. Oh, I kept my kids safe, clean, fed, and attempted to teach them what I thought they needed to know, but I missed a lot of live-in-the-moment opportunities. I think I knew it too, at the time, but I couldn't stop myself. The to do list in my head was way too long, the responsibility to achieve, to make myself useful too ingrained.

As a young mother I felt the guilt of knowing I wasn't taking enough time to enjoy my kids. I realize now I spent way too much time doing the unimportant things, like keeping my house clean, sending out Christmas cards, or doing what I thought I needed to do look like I was on top of it all. (Homemade cookies for the boys' birthday treats, handmade gifts for teachers, whatever it was I thought people expected of me). I felt shame when I lost my temper, or rushed through bedtime stories, or listened to my boys with only one ear while I was intently focused on accomplishing  <something>, anything to prove my worth and my value to others.

But I powered on through my life hoping to make up for my mistakes one day -- when I was a grandma I was going to be awesome. My biggest fear was  that my boys would move away and I wouldn't be able to see my grand kids often enough. I wanted that second chance to do it right.

I would do it all differently,  I would appreciate every moment, read the books slowly so I could savor every minute of the snuggly cuddle and relish every sloppy kiss. I vowed not to care about spills or messes, instead I planned to enjoy my grand kids' uniqueness and quirky personalities. I loved the thought that I could have f-u-n with them and not have to feel the weight of responsibility of trying to teach them all that they needed to know to succeed in life. 

I hoped that while I never really shined at mothering, grand mothering would be my thing. I could dote, spoil, play, enjoy ---on my time, and then send them back home when I needed to. I would be a great grandma.

I never dreamed I'd be a grandma who didn't even know her grandson. But this is where I learned someone had another plan for me.

Because I AM a grandma, but I've never met my grandson. My grand baby is just over three months old now. He doesn't know me. Or my family (yet) because he was given up for adoption. A difficult decision, but not mine to make. I am glad it wasn't up to me, it takes a lot of courage to let go and I am not sure I would have been able to make that selfless decision, which was in the best interest of the baby.

I hear he has loving parents; I pray they think he is the greatest thing ever. I'll bet he also has loving grandparents who take time to savor the little moments with him.

The ultimate irony, right? Never put off the present moment for some time in the future because it may never actually come. And if it does, it may not be what you anticipated. It just isn't the way I saw it all happening, without me in it.

This grandma won't be savoring any snuggles, cuddles, stories, or little moments any time soon. I will be lucky if I get to meet him at all.

If I needed proof that the control I clung to for most of my life was a big fat waste of time; this is it. It is a perfect reminder to enjoy what is right in front of you, when it is right in front of you. Or you may never get another chance.

I choose to believe that everything happens for a reason, and the view from here is one I needed to experience, even if it sucks, even if I don't yet understand it. 

As she walked through the front door, her head ensconced in a gray sweatshirt, I immediately registered two things: Sadie was in a rotten mood, and something was different about her bangs. "Did you get a haircut?" I asked, thinking she'd be pleased I noticed.

There were tears swimming in her eyes as she looked hotly out from under her hoodie and verbally shoved me away with an "I don't want to talk about it."

Uh-oh. That's the for sure sign that something isn't right with her. Normally all cycles of unsettled "ness" in her emotions result in a change of some kind, usually of a large scale.  Once it was an uncomfortable (and not terribly attractive) lip piercing, another time it was a multicolored hair extravaganza (think bag of skittles), and this time it was an impulsive new haircut (following on the heels of a long and painful period of attempting to grow it out). From the look on her face it was obvious this haircut hadn't turned out like she'd hoped.  

Two things hit me instantaneously: it wasn't really about the hair, and the things on my evening "to do" list were going to have to wait. Sadie needed me.

Sometimes truly living life means you have to deviate from your well-crafted plans. You need to allow life to happen. While I may have had a list of things I wanted to get done that night, I've learned the hard way--- they weren't what mattered.

Sadie mattered. 

The chance to connect with my almost daughter wasn't going to wait until I was done with my accomplishing. I needed to concentrate on her. So we sat. We talked. We may have even cried. In the end, we connected and that, to me, is the juice of life. Connection, caring, and conversation is powerful stuff.

Question of the Week #45: Are You Taking Full Advantage of Every Connection Opportunity That Comes Your Way?

All people, especially our children, need to know that we are willing to put them first, ahead of the do lists and the well-intentioned plans. As parents and mentors, our chances to lead by example pass quickly, if we don't take advantage of them when they are right in front of us, we may not get another chance.

These days I take advantage of every opportunity I can to connect with those around me, especially my children. How about you? Are you allowing time for those who need you?

Back in May I wrote a post for The Mode Life called In a Perfect World. After events that happened this week, I was actually comforted by words from my own post.Excerpt...

"But in the end, it isn’t about us. It’s about letting our kids make their own choices and their own mistakes. The consequences are theirs to own. It isn’t a reflection of how I have parented. It isn’t about me at all. And if at the end of the day we have given it our best effort and offered our most honest attempt to show them the way, and yet they still choose a path different from what we would have chosen for them; it is not our fault.

There I said it. It is not my fault. "

As mothers, we often we second guess our parenting skills. I've learned lately that crap is inevitably going to happen, no matter how much we try to circumvent it.

How we respond to that crap makes a big difference in how it will play out within our everyday lives. I choose to respond* to this week's situation, rather than to just react. Meaning I didn't go all bat shi** crazy (even if deep down I really wanted to).

It worked. I was calmer, I was more effective, and I felt better about my actions. I will not always be able do the right thing, but I plan to use this newfound control when faced with the next crisis and see where it leads me.

For the full post, click here.

*It's Not About You: A Little Story About What Matters Most in Business by Bob Burg & John David Mann (p. 40 - 52)

Everyone has a story to tell. And I believe everyone has a story worth sharing. I shared mine on my When I Grow Up Blog. If you have time, hop on over to check it out.I would love to hear yours.

Wouldn't it be great if all children grew up believing in themselves and could confidently say:

I am special. I am a promise. I am a possibility. I have a future. I have the power to change my future. I can be anything I want to be. I have hope, always hope. I am believed in. I have expectations. I have love. I am loved. I am made up of all parts of me, the good and the bad. I am important. I am necessary. I am strong. I am unique. I will fail, but I am not a failure. I make a difference. I matter. I would be missed. I have the power to inspire.

Unfortunately many won't be given that opportunity. I'd like to help change that. In fact, I am determined we need to change it. How, is the question.

I'd love to hear your ideas. Care to share any?

I am not your friend.Don't misunderstand me, I'd love nothing more than to just be your friend, but it is not my job.

I'm your parent.

And with that goes the biggest responsibility I've ever been entrusted with.

So as to not mess up this assignment...I am going  to follow the rules of what it means to be a parent, even when it sucks to be me. Which honestly, is often.

Wouldn't I rather just agree with you, exchange a few surface niceties and go about my merry way, instead of endlessly dragging out of you whatever your latest problem is? Oh heck yes.

But that isn't the job I took on. And I'm not one to brush things aside, let half truths lie, or hold feelings inside, for long.

So I will scold, prod, encourage, advise, push, pull, question and challenge my way through your week. Every week.

I will even say "no" to you, and I will say it often, without reason, with reason and every place in between.

Because I love you. Because I care. Because I can. Because I am your parent.

I won't attempt to buy your love with special treats, or adventures. I'll instead buy you "real" food, boots, underwear, deodorant, glasses, shampoo and all the other necessities required. I won't help you buy a car you can't afford, instead I will take you to the doctor when you are sick, navigate through your medical bills, bank statements and job applications when they don't make sense, stay up half the night when you have had too much to drink, all in hopes that someday you will learn to be independent. That you will make better choices.

I'd really rather go with you to the flea market, or bowling, out for Chinese or shopping...but instead I will work, so I can pay the bills.  I'll do the laundry, clean the house, do the grocery shopping and make sure everyone has a safe, clean and healthy place to live and thrive. A place where friends are welcome and wanted. Where birthdays are celebrated. Where accomplishments are celebrated. And failures are discussed.  I'll go to the boring school meetings, the conferences, and attend any baseball games I can fit into my work day.

And when things go wrong in your life, or you face disappointment or failure, I'll still be here---living my boring, predictable existence. Ready to lift you up or bring you back down to reality.  All the while doing my best at the hardest job I will ever take on, being your parent.  So you can have a chance at a life beyond what you were born into. A life with choices. A life where you can live to be anything you want to be.

I'm your parent, I'm not your friend. And I will always be here.

It actually hurts to say that I am not your friend, because someday I sure would like to be.

In the meantime I'm right here. I haven't changed, even though you have.

I am still the reality check. The thorn in your side. The fun sucker.

The one who loves you more than you can ever imagine.

And I will remain that person, no matter how far you push me away.

Because it is my job as your parent. And I intend to be the best parent I can.

Where do you find strength when life gets hard?