The Hard Stuff

As much as I love my kids, parenting is not always fun and games.
Yes, they make me laugh.
Yes, they are sometimes helpful and kind.
Yes, I consider them my friends...up to a point.

And then there are those times when The Hard Stuff is called for and I feel like a failure.  I wonder what went wrong when I thought we were doing so well becoming Good People.  And I can't worry about being their friend, because there are hard things to say that they don't want to hear.  And I love them too much to let them go out into the world with unfinished edges.

So I withhold my help when I know they can do it on their own.  And instead of unquestioned sympathy I give the unvarnished Truth.  And I hate every minute of it.

It's times like this...when she hangs up still crying and he sits sulking alone in his bedroom... that I have to grit my teeth and trust that our bonds will stretch and not break.

This has been one of those days.
But now it's 8:30 and the four of us are tooling through the dark towards Dairy Queen.  It started with a coupon I found in my purse (buy one Blizzard, get one free), and then Parker got out of practice, and Hubby got finished working out, and Hillary arrived home and wanted to know why I had my keys in my hand.  After crashing into each other all day, the pieces finally came together seamlessly.
Hubby and Parker compared notes about how much weight they lifted that day.
Hillary told us about her "date".
Mumford and Sons sang from the cd player.
The breeze blew into my face, lacing my hair with the scent of honeysuckle and damp earth and Summer Night.
And the corners of my mouth began to turn up again.

At least for today, the Hard Stuff will be topped off with a little bit of Soft Serve