Samantha had always been a free bird. Marital life wasn’t for her, and neither was being a mother. Why would I want a girl who can’t sit still, does nothing for family comfort, and sees nothing but work? I let her go as soon as possible, and I took care of raising my two-year-old son myself. My parents, of course, helped me a lot.
Since it was only the beginning of my fatherhood, I did not know much. My mother helped me to get my son into kindergarten, my father went to clinics with the little one, so I definitely owe my relatives for their help and support, but sometimes their attempts to demand more from me than a simple “thank you” are maddening.
I’m thirty next year, my son is seven. The boy is old enough to go to school on his own, but in the meantime I’m letting him down, controlling him, so to speak. And it’s fine when the child is seven. But why do my parents try to control me at my age?
We don’t live together, my son and I rent an apartment, but my mother insists on moving out, and with the fact that I refuse, one of my parents is always visiting us. It gets to the point where they are always asking where exactly I’ve been, why I stayed half an hour late at work, if I’ve had any “careless relationships” again… I feel like a teenager when they scold me for something like this. I’m an adult too, I can plan my own time. And they are not guided by the fact that my son is supposedly home alone in the evenings – he is not. He’s either busy with karate, or extra English, or with the nanny. They just want to know where I am and what I am. It’s annoying and scary.
Are my parents going to be controlling me at forty as well? For once letting my ex-wife get away and raising a child alone? Do I look the least bit irresponsible?
