thoughts

I had a bit of a significant moment last night.
I accepted I am not and never will be a perfect parent.
It may not sound like much, but it's a massive achievement for me as perfection has been a theme of my life for as long as I can remember.
I also accepted that actually, I'm not doing so bad.
But it's sad that again it took someone else's (perceived) poor parenting to allow me to realise my own strengths.
I won't go into details, partly because I still find it so sad, but it's another case of people who can't accept that a child changes your life. You make a decision to have them, whether they were planned or not, and it's your responsibility to live with that decision and its consequences.
In the same way as when Miss T chooses to ignore warnings about teasing the dog and ends up losing a brick from her jar, if you choose to bring up a child you live with the fact that things will never be the same again.
In my opinion, this means Saturdays spent shopping are off the agenda for a good few years, nights down the pub are a rarity and only possible when babysitters are available, and holidays mean family time rather than the previous heady mix of alcohol, culture and shopping.
Not everyone shares my opinion, and that's fine, but I'm glad I can say I put my child first.
In other news, I'm still working on that elusive skill of keeping my mouth shut but sometimes I feel it's important to speak out.
There was a good example of that this week when I overheard a comment from someone who couldn't understand why a 26-year-old with clinical depression would want to commit suicide. They were using the classic argument that he had everything to live for and many people are much worse off. Both statements may be true, but I tried to put forward to viewpoint that he wouldn't be able to realise that and it wasn't as simple as snapping out of it. I'm not sure I got through, but at least I tried...