"You could have handled that better," my inner voice remarked snidely. I already knew that. Before the voice got close to berating me, I’d already given myself a mental beat down, replayed the interaction with the child in my head and imagined three better ways to handle the situation without resulting in years of therapy in the child’s adult years.
I will not make excuses. I am by no means the television dad that holiday portrays in the 30 minute sitcoms. Always wise. Always sensitive. Always knowing the best way to fix a problem. I also don’t have a room for of writer’s and editors.
I will not make excuses. Life is hard. Full of stress. I set high expectations for myself and the child. We are both learning as we go. By the time the child reaches adulthood, hopefully we will have both figured this out.
I want better for my children. They deserve better than me.
