good parents.

From time to time, in rare moments of silence, as far as I a victory or a very lucky, I had moments in which I was proud of me. Sometimes, perhaps once every few years, I felt that I could be a good wife, even from time to time. And all the many times I changed my mind. Rarely, the big occasions, crowned by awards or applause, I felt equipped in the professional writing and editorial skills. Sure enthusiasm kept me not much. I had a few days scattered through life - gathered, I do not make more than a month - in which I felt beautiful. But I almost forgot how I felt then. Recognize, however, that I did not still got to live those stages where I declare - if only for a day, for an hour - a good parent. In any analysis, no matter how compassionate I would watch as my mother found multitude of flaws. I could be more careful. Could I be more patient. I could be more present. I could be more severe. I could be firmer. I could be more inventive. I could be more housewife. I could ...