Some days I want to go back to when the kids were little and depended on you to take care of them and you knew what was right and best for them. Where bandaids and hugs and kisses could fix most things.
Sometimes I really hate it when they are grown and either know or at least they think they know more than me. OK Ok they know more than me.
I hate it when things get all complicated and there seems to be no simple answer to anything. Like trying to figure out when they are for real or joking and just trying to get a rise out of me. Trying to figure out if they need a listening ear or a kick in the pants. The things that you can only watch them struggle through and can't really help. You know stuff like that.
But for better or worse, just glad they take the time to include me in their lives and so far the hurt from the strain goes away like it does after eating ice cream.
