Ideally, children are a parent’s pride, and it’s tough to admit when things don’t turn out that way.
Unfair
I feel ashamed of my son, even though I really have no reason to. Deep down, though, it’s a huge disappointment. I come from a family of lawyers—my parents, siblings, the whole clan are lawyers, judges, and such. My husband’s family is full of doctors, and he’s a skilled heart surgeon. We eagerly awaited our son choosing law or medicine, either would have been fine. But early on, it became clear he wasn’t interested in either path, and even sadder: he’s unfortunately not very bright. It’s hard to admit, but it’s true. He struggled in elementary school and eventually dropped out of high school because it just wasn’t working. In the end, he became a carpenter, which he enjoys and makes a decent living from. So, there’s no shame in him, but still, we feel disappointed…
No comment
My daughter, at 28, has three kids from three different dads, and only one of them occasionally pays some child support. So, the whole bunch lives in my house. The kids are unruly, and my daughter doesn’t work—she spends all day watching reality TV and doesn’t help out at all. What exactly am I supposed to be proud of?
The joy of movement
My wife and I were competitive athletes in our youth—we met on the track. We didn’t necessarily expect our kids to become athletes, knowing how tough that path is, but it was clear that staying active would be part of their lives. Well, our son is a skinny teen who the wind could blow away and refuses to hear about sports, while our daughter is clearly overweight and only interested in eating. It’s like they’re not even our kids…
The pushover
In every relationship, my son plays a submissive role. Women take advantage of him, boss him around, humiliate him—and he just puts up with it. Every girlfriend is unbearable and dramatic, and he’s such a pushover it’s painful to watch him let them treat him that way. I have no idea how he became like this, but I really don’t like what I see.
The screw-up
My daughter always has big plans, but nothing ever works out for her. She fails at everything she tries, then comes to us, and we pull her out of trouble financially. Then she comes up with something new, which again falls apart, and she comes back with her hand out. It’s a never-ending cycle I’m so tired of. Her father and I worked hard for what we have, and she irresponsibly wastes it all without caring about the next failure because she expects us to always bail her out. Maybe she’d learn if we didn’t help, but should I let her go into debt? That wouldn’t be good either.
Looks
My reason is selfish and simple: I’m disappointed because my daughter isn’t attractive. My husband and I both modeled when we were young, and both our families have beautiful women and handsome men. But my daughter isn’t even average—she’s downright unattractive. I know it’s harsh to say, but I can’t help how I feel.
Life of the party
My son is a hopeless alcoholic who has never brought me joy. Even as a kid, he was an annoying troublemaker. Sometimes I wish we’d never had children.
Living in sin
My daughter got involved with a criminal who dragged her into his shady dealings. It started with petty thefts and escalated to bigger crimes, and now she’s serving a five-year prison sentence. I only knew her boyfriend was a shady character—I never imagined she’d be part of it. We’re a deeply religious family, and what she’s done is an unspeakable shame in our village. My husband has fallen ill from the stress.
Bitter taste
I always dreamed of having a son to take boating, rowing, and fishing with. Someone to hike with while I tell him about animals. Someone who’d fix cars and tinker in the garage with me, like I did with my dad and grandpa—a typical "daddy’s boy." Instead, I got a lazy kid who only cares about video games. As a child, he’d scream and run to his mom at the slightest trouble, and at 21, he still does the same. He has no girlfriend, no job, and will never make it in life. Yet his mom keeps spoiling him with money and babying him. My son is my biggest disappointment.
