I think we judge our parents too harshly. Many of us, if not all are guilty of this one offence.
Hit me a while ago that in a few years, I might have children. Maybe! Maybe not, but I look forward to having children more than having a husband. My religion however frowns upon single parenting not aided by death.
The thought of it excites me but terrifies me at the same time. Like a beautiful orgasm, it’s a blend of pain and pleasure. I’m not even sure what that means.
Summarily, I fear I might make a terrible parent. I might over indulge my child. I overindulge Padme already, and she’s only just a sibling.
I fear I might be too strict, just like my parents and end up pushing my children away.
I fear that I might try too hard to be the cool parents, and end up being the awkward one at gatherings.
I fear I might not have the right advice for my teenage child.
I fear I might not be able to guide my children when they raise questions about religion.
I have many fears I cannot address publicly but these thoughts keep me up at night. It’s painful because while I think about these things, I may be unable to do anything about it. There are no manuals of guides. The babies will not come with operational guides, and while I recognise works of authors directed at making it easier, I have come to the conclusion that I might have to wing many things.
Like an experiment, I might not get it right the first time, but I will eventually get it right. Thinking of it this way make and warm up to my parents. They were winging things, they failed at many things but that’s all they could give. They had their anxieties and didn’t know better. Their experiment worked out beautifully despite the many flaws.
I will have less flaws. My children will judge me less.