I'm Turning into My Parents

Sometimes I’ll joke that I regret having such a normal, loving, supportive upbringing because I have no fodder for a juicy memoir. As far as writing (and reading) goes, it’s my favorite form, hands down. But no one really wants to hear about my white, middle class upbringing in a wholesome Midwestern town.

Now as a mother, I look at parents and understand so much more clearly what it took to provide that nice, normal life for me. And I get it. I understand the importance of sacrifice for your children. There is nothing I wouldn’t do to make sure my kids have a normal, comfortable life. So sorry Cash and Ruby, you won’t be able to play the tortured artist card either, but you’ll appreciate me for it one day.

I am trying to live more in the present these days. I snapped this photo quickly as I was appreciating what was happening in front of my eyes. It will also be one of my strongest memories of my parents with my kids, as the amazing caregivers they are – my mom always feeding and doting on Cash, and Dad, kissing and cleaning Ruby. Come to think of it - I do the same. Feed, clean, kiss - on repeat. Oh God, I’m turning into my parents. Well, I suppose there are worse things I could turn in to, even if it’s at the expense of my career as a salacious memoirist.

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