From being praised for learning to text, I have gone to being vilified for making comments on Facebook. Wow, none of this shit was even a remote thought when I became a mom.
I guess I should not dabble in the business of youth. But, still, I cannot imagine criticizing my mom, dead these past 26 years, for sticking up for me, for expressing interest, for trying to stay involved. Man, if she even knew what I was doing, it would have been epic.
I keep finding ways to touch the perimeters of each grown child's tolerance. It is a strange journey; three humans that mean more to me than life, and I choose the wrong path so often. Is it my blundering, or their intolerance or sensitivity, or both?
Will they, as I do, mourn the criticism I directed at my parents during my youth? Will they ever recognize my limitations of upbringing, culture and technology? Maybe the best approach is the one chosen by my husband, and so many other baby boomer/empty nester/21st century parents: simply don't go there. Don't participate, don't learn the new ways, don't go there.
This parenting thing, the empty nest thing, is hard and confusing and hurtful. Maybe I'll just go eat worms...
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