These are the remaining pieces of a symbol of my failure as a parent.  Let me explain…

Prior to the birth of my first child 20 years ago, I had this idea of taking photos in a rocking chair.  It was similar to my dreams of keeping photo albums of my kids, making quilts of their little outfits, framing their artwork to hang around the house, being a stay-at-home mom, and homeschooling.  Ummm…much of that did not happen, at least not to any success.  However, I did buy a rocking chair that I found second hand and spruced it up with pillows.  For the first few months and years of my kids lives, pictures were taken.  I have no idea where they are.  I’ll find them someday.  The chair followed us from house to house, but the picture idea was forgotten over time.  I chalk it up to laziness, forgetfulness, uncooperative non-participants in my household, but mostly, weariness.

Parenting never turned out to be as much fun as I imagined.  My co-parent ex-husband and I could not agree on anything, my kids found all of my ideas unpalatable, and I had to work two jobs just to pay the bills, which left very little time for arts and crafts.  Also, turns out, I hate arts and crafts, scrap booking, photography, homeschooling, and quilting.

Long story short, my kids are adults now and trying to make it as grown ups.  They resent me for never letting them have t.v., forcing religion on them, being poor, and who knows what else, but I know they also love and respect me.  I am the one they call in the middle of the night when they need someone the most.  They texted me for Mother’s Day.  They are not really at a place in their lives where I can expect gifts or cards or dinner out.  They are in survival mode.

Instead, I spent all day in my pajamas watching Netflix, writing, reading, and sipping hot tea on my back porch as it rained softly.  The eyesore that used to be my rocking chair sat in pieces taunting me for the first few hours.  I asked my husband if he knew what happened and he said that the back of the chair just slid off.  I’m not sure how the back of a chair just slides off, but that’s what he said.  It struck me that tomorrow would be recycle day and if I could fit the pieces of the rocking chair into the recycle bin, I could dispose of it.

Without thinking, I began tearing it apart.  I expected to feel sad, angry, disappointed, or some such other negative feeling.  Instead, I really didn’t feel much of anything.  I think part of me is tired of feeling regret, shame, and anger about the past.  Maybe I am numb.  Maybe I’m in denial and will feel something later.  I think I’ve just accepted that in the area of parenting, I have failed more than I have succeeded.  So, the rocking chair is disposed of and I’m planning to find a softer, more comfortable outdoorsy chair that I can share with my sweet new husband and my adorable granddaughter.

And if either of my kids decide to come over for a visit sometime, maybe they’ll let me take a picture of them in my new chair.