I have gone thirteen years with the pleasure of telling other parents that I didn’t know, first-hand, just what they were talking about when they described parenthood as a “thankless job.” I’ve always felt that it was a joyous job. I guess I’m lucky to have come this far without that feeling.
Tonight, for the first time in all those years, I’m there. It feels like a thankless job—a way to tie yourself up in knots and give it your all and be disliked, even severely disliked for it. And yet you don’t feel as though you can quit it, either; whatever you’re doing, if you believe it’s right, you have to play through.
Hard evening. Very hard evening. I guess it was bound to come with the teenage years, given that it didn’t come earlier.
Doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it, or enjoy it. But there’s nothing to do other than play through.