I like to think I’m pretty ok as a mother.
I get some stuff “right” and some stuff “wrong” and I do yell and swear, and cuddle my kids and watch The Simpsons at the same time, and read books to them and take them to fun places.
I make them lunch every day and cook them dinner every night. Except those times Grumpy Pants does, or my 11 year old does.
I like to think that I’m teaching him good, life skills be letting him cook dinner, and not placing him into some hideous, dangerous position that has people shaking their heads in disbelief at my despicability.
Truth is, I really have no idea how this whole thing will pan out, what my kids will grow up to be like. I have no idea what the final outcome will be. I won’t even know what they will tell their therapists. Thank you Client Confidentiality.
What I do know, however, is that I suck at making rainbow jelly.
Today is my third attempt in the last 12 or 18 months of making rainbow jelly and I have fucked it up. Again.