In the thick of the third book in the Dairyland Murders series,  I find myself once again tangled up in parent-child relationships (this also happened in book 2). This is completely unintentional. Being I have no children of my own, I find it odd that my brain chooses to wander in that territory, but it does.

Whatever political agenda everyone seems to want to attach to motherhood, next to maybe mortal combat in defense of your country, I believe it is one of the hardest jobs in the world, at least if you’re doing it right. If you are a screwed up, neglectful parent, it might seem like a piece of cake to pop out a kid and let him or her eventually become someone else’s responsibility. And don’t be attaching completely unrelated adjectives, like “poor” to that description either. Child neglect and abuse doesn’t discriminate against any socioeconomic status.

On the other end of that coin, no parent is perfect. All the over-compensating in the world cannot change the fact that moms are human beings too. They make mistakes, but sometimes, the mistakes are what make them interesting. The mothers in my stories are very flawed. Most of the time, they have had very tough choices to make, and the consequences of those choices can sometimes never be mended or forgiven. Often those choices cause underlying feelings of bitterness and regret to fester. Some moms are redeemed. Some moms never recover. Relationships with children and parents are tricky, but predictable. You learn a lot about a person by meeting their parents.

It’s a prickly path to say the least, but it makes for good back-story. By the way, my awesome mom is one of my editors and biggest fans. Shout out to you, Mom! Happy Mother’s day.

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