Grown And Flown Because Parenting Never Ends Novels & Stories

"Ma'am, haven't you heard the saying, 'What goes around comes around'? You're getting what you deserve." "As a parent, you failed to fulfill your duty to raise your daughter. Why should she look after you now? I've never seen a parent as ridiculous as you. You actually gave her a bunch of coupons instead of an allowance. You really refuse to spend a single cent on her, don't you?" "Serves you right. Now that your daughter can stand on her own two feet, why shouldn't she leave you? I can't believe a young woman who's five foot seven weighs under 77 pounds."

“You don’t get it.” There’s a pause. Then he sits. I hear it. The soft thud of him lowering himself to the floor outside my stall door. “Try me.” I breathe in, sharp and messy. “I didn’t grow up dreaming about kids. I didn’t plan this. I didn’t even know if I wanted them. And now... now that they might be gone, it’s like some part of me is dying before I even got to live it.” Another pause. He doesn’t interrupt.

And through it all, we held tight to the belief that our love would carry us through any storm. But as our child approached adulthood, the realization dawned on us that soon they would be spreading their wings and venturing out into the world on their own. It was a bittersweet realization—a testament to our success as parents, yet accompanied by a sense of loss and apprehension. The day came when our child stood before us, ready to embark on their own journey. Their eyes were filled with a mixture of excitement and trepidation, mirroring the emotions that swirled within our own hearts. Victor and I shared a knowing glance, silently acknowledging the profound impact our child had on our lives

I hope the way we raised our kids has made them good people, and in turn, they’ll get mates that fit their characters. ‘Part of being a parent is letting them go.’ Artemis said, but I disliked that thought. ‘You can still be their safe place to come home to….’ She tried in a different way. I sighed as I looked at Zev, “when we started our family, I didn’t think about them growing up and leaving. I didn’t think it would be this hard. I love our busy life. I love how loud and full of love our house is. What happens when they all grow up and leave the nest?”

“Great. Fine, but I get the last word on who is guarding you and Evan. And I will try to talk to him at breakfast before he goes to school. I didn’t even think of how it would be received by the pups.” “Hey, you’ve been parenting for what? Two days now? Give yourself a break, it’s not like there are rule books or guide books for parenting. I don’t care what they claim. Parenting for Dummies is not a DIY for parenting.” “Okay, I will try not to be too hard on myself. Anything else?”

"Those parasites deserve to be locked away, never to see the light of day again!" Dad, Mom, and Edwin were so scared that their knees buckled. They scrambled over to me on their hands and knees, weeping and pleading for me to give them another chance. "Patricia, no matter what, we're still family." "We did you wrong before. But please, just let us off this once." "Edwin hasn't even found a wife yet, and we don't have many years left either." "Do you really have the heart to see us spend the rest of our lives in prison?"

They are spoiling my children and I am tired of complaining. "Thank you for joining us tonight. To all of you, our cherished friends and family, we cannot express enough gratitude for your unwavering support and love. From the late-night conversations to the shared laughter and tears, you have been there for us through it all. As we embark on this incredible journey of parenthood, we know that your love and guidance will continue to surround us." I said smiling and I felt Nathan holding my hands in support.

"That's what we do. We love him so completely that even when he leaves, he knows he has home to return to. Always. Forever. No matter how far he goes." So that's what we did. We loved Phoenix completely. We gave him everything. Every moment. Every lesson. Every bit of wisdom we could share. We taught him strength and kindness. Independence and connection. Purpose and love. How to be individual while being part of collective. How to leave without losing. How to choose difficult things for right reasons. We showed him what family meant. What home meant. What love meant. We prepared him to leave while hoping desperately he'd stay. Because that's what parents did. They raised children to fly. To

They think everything their parents do for them is just expected. "If they don't fall hard at least once, they'll never grow up. They'll never learn what it means to appreciate what they have."

“Not a watch. Not a split attention. An hour of you that is not also a negotiation with a small person about the precise ownership of a wooden bird.” I looked up. The honesty of it landed clean. Parenthood had given us almost everything we had asked the wars for. It had also made uninterrupted presence a scarce resource we kept forgetting to budget for each other. “Take her to my mother,” I said. “One hour. Charter amendment.” His eyes warmed. “You are entering it?” “I am entering it. Go.”