Dysfunction or Normalcy?

We remember believing, in pained
desperation that once infancy is
over and the passage to adolescence
has been completed, there will be
ample time for reasonable debate
with that middle child so different
from her siblings. And when that time
never did quite arrive, we consoled 
ourselves with the assurance that 
emerging adulthood would change 
everything to enable us to speak with 
equanimity to the child presenting 
with authority opposition in the 
assurance that maturity would render 
unto us the opportunity to rationally
discuss matters so that the ongoing
current reeking with mistrust, blame and 
resentment would dissipate in a sea
of emotional outpourings far more
consonant with familial love than
the constant friction that always seemed
to raise its uneasy equilibrium between
strained silence and ebullient casual
chatter, hostility lingering on the margins. 
This too shall pass, we consoled
ourselves. Somehow it never managed
to. And when we meet by happenstance
other women who casually drop bits
of intimate confessions, eager to 
develop a conversation where the
confused pain of motherhood can be
opened for discussion, we realize that
this is no exceptional misfortune that 
has befallen us in raising our children
but that many, like ourselves have 
experienced similar failings in the
expectation that some fabled familial
harmony reflecting harmonious relations
and devoted love would mark our days.