I've been writing professionally for 15 years. It's my career. I've always shown an aptitude for it. I trained and qualified accordingly.
Parenting is a whole other bowl of nachos.
I do not know what the @^%%# I am doing.
And the funny thing is, no one does.
And then you're given this fragile bag of skin and bones and heart and brain to care for, and inside you are FREAKING OUT. But you kiss ouchies and read bedtime stories, because you have got this parenting thing in the bag, right?
And when your 6-year-old autistic son suddenly sprouts a tooth behind his baby tooth, you try not to hyperventilate in front of him (because you've got this, remember) but inside you're like "Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit..."
So that was my day. How are you doing?