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Today I’m just in the mood to reminisce and ramble for a moment.
Noah is about to turn five. Not to sound cliché, but these five years have really flown by. From the very beginning, I have done everything I could to put my child first, to never mess up as a parent, and to always keep everything in my own life in perfect order so as to give him the best advantage possible.
Ummm… yeah, right.
As it turns out, keeping my own life in perfect order hasn’t been something I’ve been very good at. One divorce later, I really questioned that. Two divorces later, there was nothing left to question. Perfect order became a fantasy to me. A holy grail of sorts.
Never messing up as a parent, that also wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be. Sure, since the day he was born I proudly exclaimed that there is no such thing as a perfect parent, but it doesn’t mean that I didn’t secretly think I was that perfect parent. Then I yelled at him once for almost no reason. Then I tried to spank him once even though I swore I never would. Then I learned that sometimes I couldn’t give him the time he should be getting from dad. Yep, as it turned out, being a perfect parent wasn’t something I was very good at either.
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