At times being a parent is a little like being tossed off the top of a mountain, bouncing and tumbling haphazardly down the side landing in a bruised heap at the bottom after targeting every tree and rock.
My nature is to lay at the bottom far too long letting the cuts sting and aches set in. If I was quicker to get up and dust myself off the hurt might not last so long.
I hate the feelings of embarrassment that I failed to instill values that should come naturally to my boys.
I can't convince myself that decisions that they make don't directly have anything to do with any failure on my part. I did and continue to do my best but there are times when my best isn't good enough. I could blame divorce or a lack of discipline because I felt guilty about my parenting inadequacies but at some point at least part of the responsibility is theirs.
There will be disappointments and decisions that shouldn't have been made but I need to wrap my head around the fact that they aren't all my fault. Some personal responsibility does belong to them.
I miss the days when just the disappointed look in my eyes was enough to lead to apologies that were sincere. Not just defensive arguing that I worry too much or that it wasn't their fault. My head know that letting them grow up includes letting them make mistake and hopefully learn from them but my heart still wants to protect them.
I guess I'll get up and head back up the mountain side. There really are some fabulous views up there.
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