The experience of being a parent is so informed by our individual experiences.
Our own childhood. Our expectations of what a family looks like. Endurance. One’s threshold for sleep deprivation. One’s greater vision.
The list goes on and on.
One thing I look back on is how much television I watched as a kid and how that, and, later, internet, provided me with instant gratification.
And how parenthood is so opposite to that.
In the following two poem posts, I wonder if my experience of parenthood is informed by a cushier upbringing.