I walk on very tenuous ground with my TBM children. There's a large part of my life that I can't share with them becaue it would disturb our fragile detente. Even uttering a "hell" or "damn" is enough to bring a distinct chill to our relationship for an hour or two. I worry that because I don't share the small things of my life with them, they might not share theirs with me. It's just another wall the church has helped build between my own children and me.
Just once I'd love to be able to say these things:
"I had the best time with my friends last night at the huka bar!"
"I just need to make a quick stop at the liquor store on the way home."
"It's a good thing I'm not paying tithing or I wouldn't be able to afford to buy that for you."
"Mommy just got nominated for a Brodie for Best Erotic or Sexual Piece!"