When my late husband R’s parents were alive, we took his yearly break to spend time with them. Meal times was a source of constant embarrassment for me. Our young children would need to go to the loo. Grandma didn’t like it. She blamed me for their indiscretions. You can’t tell toddlers that this wasn’t the time to announce what they needed to do when everybody was sitting having dinner.
R had drilled it into me from day one of marriage, that no one was to blame except me if the children didn’t turn out alright. I was on tenterhooks about their grades, and manners, while the children were growing up. To make matters worse, I was sole parent most of the times. I had to be forever vigilant about everything.
During once a year visits, daughter blames me when her kids throw a tantrum. “Mama, what kind of grand children have you produced?”
Tell me what did I do?
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