The days march, the apartment echoes, the tears well up. It’s my last week in Brooklyn, and I’m alternately excited and devastated. Saying goodbye is never easy, especially when it’s a place you feel so incredibly at home in.
I worry all the time that I’m ruining my kids. That they’re learning bad habits, being turned neurotic by my parenting, or feeling misunderstood. It’s part of parenting, and I know I’m not alone in it. It still sucks. I also know that I’m not my mom, nor are my kids childhoods anything like mine was. This sometimes makes me ashamed, as I compare aspects of my past to their present, and come up wanting in the patience and calm categories.Read More