Full Support

[April 10th - 4:00 PM]

Dear Journal,

Let me just say this: my parents are obnoxiously good at parenting.

Like, sickeningly sweet, Instagram-perfect, "we-still-slow-dance-in-the-kitchen" kind of good. And it’s driving me crazy. Not in a "they’re mean" way. No. That would be a little easier. They're the type of people who ask for a hug when I yell at them.

Case in point? This morning.

I rolled out of bed late (as usual), hair looking like I’d wrestled a raccoon in my sleep, and what do I find on the kitchen table? A warm croissant, my favorite raspberry jam, and a sticky note that says:

“You’re our favorite part of the day. (HEART EMOJI) — Mom & Dad”

WHO DOES THAT?

No “You should be waking up on time, young lady.” No guilt. Just love. Like some... ABC Family sitcom parents with a never-ending supply of emotional bandwidth.

Ugh.

[April 12th - 1:00 PM]

Dad walked into my room humming today. HUMMING. Like some kind of Disney character. And what was he doing? Folding my laundry.

I was like, “Dad. You don’t have to do that. I’m sixteen. I’m capable.”

He just grinned and said, “I know you are. But sometimes it’s nice to be cared for even when you can do it yourself.”

Who says things like that??

And don’t get me started on Mom. She calls Dad “babe” in public. They high-five when they unload the dishwasher. They still go on “date nights” once a month and come back giggling like teenagers.

I once caught them slow dancing to Norah Jones in the living room. On a Tuesday.

No trauma. No screaming matches. Just soft music and warm lighting and two people so in love it should be illegal.

[April 14th 11:33 PM]

I bombed a math quiz today. Like, Titanic-level sinkage. A solid 55% percent. CURSE YOU IMAGINARY NUMBERS!!!

Anyway, I tanked it.

I walked in the door already bracing for disappointment. I even practiced my speech: “I’m sorry. I know I should’ve studied more. I just couldn’t focus. I’ll do better.”

But when I told them?

Dad just said, “That sucks. Want to talk about what made it tough?”

Mom said, “Do you need a hug or some space?”

I took the hug. I tried not to cry. And THEN they ordered pizza without even asking because “cheese solves most crises.”

We talked about getting a tutor over slices and didn’t make me feel like a failure.

I can’t even rebel properly. They just... love me harder.

It’s exhausting.

[April 17th 10:17 PM]

We had a family meeting tonight.

Most families have family meetings because someone wrecked the car or there’s a financial meltdown.

Ours?

“Let’s check in on each other’s dreams and goals.”

Dreams and goals…DREAMS AND GOALS!

I swear, I’m living in a parenting handbook.

Dad talked about wanting to try learning coding languages for the computer. Mom wants to start painting again. There’s at least 4 of her works around our home, she’s always been good.

Then they turned to me with matching expectant smiles like, “And what about you, peanut?”

I told them I didn’t know.

They nodded like it was the wisest thing ever said.

Mom said, “That’s okay. You don’t need to know yet. You just need room to grow.”

ROOM TO GROW.

Are you hearing this?

I said, “You guys are too nice. It’s weird.”

Dad just laughed and said, “Better weird than cold.”

[April 18th – 1:00 AM]

Okay. So here’s the thing. I know I’m sarcastic. I know I roll my eyes a lot. I say “ugh” like it’s punctuation.

But when I went downstairs tonight to grab water, I heard them talking.

Not fighting. Not even arguing.

Just talking.

About how tired they were. About work stress. About bills. About how worried they are that I’m pulling away from them, how they’re trying not to make me feel smothered but still stay connected.

And then... Mom said:

“Sometimes I wonder if we’re too much. But I’d rather she remember us loving her annoyingly well than not enough.”

And Dad said:

“We’ll just keep showing up until she lets us in again.”

I didn’t let them know I heard.

But I cried into my hoodie for like ten minutes.

[April 20th 12:01 PM]

I helped Dad with the laundry today. He didn’t hum. I did.

He just smiled and said, “You’re growing up.”

Dad sounded so somber.

I said, “Don’t sound so sad about it.”

And he said, “I’m not. I just miss when I was your favorite person.”

I didn’t know what to say. So I threw a sock at him.

He threw one back.

Then we had a full-on sock war in the laundry room like we were kids again.

[April 21st 7:54 PM]

Mom was reading in her chair, glasses on the tip of her nose, when I walked in.

I didn’t say anything at first. Just stood there like a weirdo.

Then I asked:

“Were your parents like you?”

She blinked and said, “No. Not even close.”

I asked her how she learned to be this way. So gentle. So consistent. So... annoyingly good.

She said, “By remembering how it felt when I needed love and didn’t get it.”

And then I got it.

They aren’t perfect because life was easy.

They’re perfect because it wasn’t.

And instead of turning bitter, they turned soft.

[April 24th 9:07 AM]

I left them a note on the fridge today.

“You guys are the most irritatingly wonderful people I know. Thanks for loving me so much it’s annoying. I love you back. (Just don’t make a big deal about this, okay?)”

They made pancakes shaped like hearts this morning.

Because of course they did.

[April 26th 11:59 PM]

Dear Journal,

Okay. I admit it.

I’m lucky. So disgustingly lucky it makes my teenage sarcasm wilt in shame.

But also... grateful.

Because someday, if I ever have a kid of my own, I want them to roll their eyes at how well I love them. I want them to call me annoying because I ask about their day, leave sticky notes on their bag, and make their favorite food after they bomb a quiz.

Because I’ve learned something:

Love that never leaves, even when it’s eye-roll-worthy?

That’s the kind that stays with you forever.

Even when you pretend it doesn’t.