Let’s be honest, no relationship is perfect. But when it comes to our children I think we mamas hold out some unreasonable hope that our relationships with them will be. We hope that they will look to us for guidance, that we will inherently understand them better than anyone else, that we, because we are their mothers, will have the answers when they need them.
I’m coming face-to-face lately with the reality that these hopes are, to some extent, fiction. Eliza and I are not on the same page. It feels like most days we are not in the same book or, for that matter, on the same planet.
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