I am a terrible daughter.

I’m impatient. Mean. Judgmental. Critical. And guilty, because my mom forgives me for all of that.

Yes, I’ve apologized, too many times. And it’s okay that my mom and I have radically different concepts of gender and “acceptable” gender roles. I mean, I’d be stunned if we didn’t. So everything is fine, ultimately. But I kind of felt like I should confess to the internets before I roll my sweaty, wilting self off to bed.