I knew I’d been lucky a little too long. My two teen boys have rarely given me any trouble. Until yesterday.
My husband and I called them both out on something pretty major, the details of which I agreed to keep private. Let’s just say I am still shocked, mad, surprised and hurt. Mostly hurt. Andrew and Matthew know I’m hurt. I believe they would rather have me angry at them than disappointed in them.
I made the most of that bit of knowledge. I told them that their actions basically broke my heart. It was enough to bring tears to their eyes and a small measure of satisfaction to my heart. My boys DO care what I think and how I feel. So after some yelling (mostly to get them downstairs) and lots of talking last night, we tiptoed around each other today, our nerves raw, our feelings exposed.
It’s temporary, I know. We will heal, but we will probably never agree on certain aspects of what transpired. If any good came out of the situation it’s that we learned that our kids care enough to tell the truth, even though the truth was hard to hear.
Oh well. The parents held their ground, reinforced the rules, and hugged the kids. The kids asked questions, apologized and hugged the parents.
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