And I rarely do. I still selfishly do my errands while dragging her with me, I get frustrated with her dawdling, and we go entire days without me sitting down with her to play dolls, color, or read.
I feel like a horrible mother because of this. I realize there are mothers more horrible out there, but given my love for my daughter and my position in life, there is no good excuse sometimes for my not playing with her. There are plenty of opportunities for me to spend time with her that I pass up, choosing instead to read my magazines, watch t.v., or blog.
I hate myself for this. I feel like she deserves more. She deserves a mother that’s more creative, more fun, more loving. A mother that doesn’t get lost inside herself, that doesn’t have unexplained crying jags, or that isn’t downright evil at certain times of the month.
And I don’t feel like simply having guilt is a testament to what a great parent I am. My father constantly cried, apologized, and lamented his life decisions. And you know what? He was a terrible father. It didn’t help me any that he felt badly about it. I don’t want to be that parent. And yet I often am.
I know exactly how it feels to be disregarded, to be ignored, to be screamed at, to be hit, by your parent. I definitely am not this way with my daughter, but maybe that’s the problem. I think, subconsciously, because I am not as bad as he was, I’m okay.
But, I know I’m not. I need to do more. Tonight I will promise myself that tomorrow I will. But, will I?