There are times I don’t know if I’m doing a good job at this parenting thing. Sometimes I just have to hold my breath, push through, believe that I am and enjoy the little moments that let me know I’m not totally screwing things up.
I sometimes wonder what I do now that will cause Addie to roll her eyes at me later. “Oh, my mother.” I can hear it already, I know it so well because I’ve said it myself.
Perhaps it’s because I had such a tumultuous relationship with my own mom that I’ve always believed my relationship with Addie is somehow doomed. For the past eight and half years I’ve just accepted that there will come a time when she hates me, wants nothing to do with me and can’t stand me. I mean, isn’t that the way all mother daughter relationships are?
Part of me holds out hope that one day she will be sitting around with her friends talking about the time her mom took her to her first Broadway show, made her try chicken feet and forced her to figure out the subway system on her own. That she will be able say I did something right that helped her discover what she is meant to do in this world. I hope she always remembers time spent as just the two of us. I hope she understands I’ve tried my best and felt terrible when I let her down or had to say no. I so desperately want to give her everything but know in the end I’m giving her more by denying her a lot.
I don’t know how this whole raising her thing will turn out in the end. I have no idea if what I’m doing now will mess things up later, but I do know I will always be someone she can grab for to steady herself, even if it’s just for a moment.