When I walked into my parents’ house, I heard my mother say, “Your sister’s kids eat first, and your kids can wait for whatever is left.” My kids were sitting in the corner, staring at empty plates, trying to look brave like they didn’t want to cry. My sister just shrugged. “Get used to it. That’s how this house is.” Then my father added, “They need to learn patience.” I didn’t argue. I didn’t beg. I simply took my kids by the hand and walked out. Minutes later… my phone wouldn’t stop buzzing, and the voices on the other end didn’t sound nearly as confident as they had before.
I’m Susan, 32. I walked into my parents’ house in the suburbs of Columbus to pick up my kids and[…]
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