There are so many days where I hear myself lecturing my kids about something so ridiculous (like using too much toilet paper, or charging their headphones, or the perils of not hanging up a fresh towel to replace the one they put in laundry after they took a shower, or the environmental impact of always using a new towel every time they take a showe) that I just think, “Michelle, you sound like a crazy person right now, they will definitely talk about this in therapy when they grow up.” I certainly wouldn’t want to listen to me.
There are many many moments in my day when I think, instead of telling my daughter how her teeth will rot out of her head if she didn’t brush them every night I should just her what a good and wonderful person she was and how much I appreciate her trying her best. So much Criticism.
Looking back at my formative years I remember my brother constantly calling me fat, and my parents never saying anything in response. My brother and his friends hatefully teased me in elementary school and maybe my parents were not around to hear it because they both worked full-time, but when I remember is them loving him more than me. I remember them buying him pair after pair of Reebok pumps (they were the best new thing in 1989) and Miami Dolphins leather jackets, Mondetta shirts, and Doc Martens, while I got to shop at Zellers. Did they love him more than me? Probably not. But that’s how I remember it.
Love,
Michelle D.
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