And they will be right.
Not because I actually am a bad parent. I do my best. This will happen because I am not an ideal parent, an easy or engaged or fun parent. Not most of the time, and probably not even half the time.
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They will be right because some days I can't find kind words and either do not speak or speak harshly. They will remember the way they felt on days when my spoons were low and they were rowdy and I spat out "Stop being an idiot, " or some equally hateful phrase passed down from my parents. It's been awhile, but I've even told them to "shut the fuck up" before catching myself and apologizing.
I am not always a good parent. Still, compared to where the bar was set by my parents, I am a great parent. I do not hit my kids or tell them they are incapable or inherently evil. I do not speak over their experiences to make sure they stay out of my lane. It's hard, but I work to share the road. I don't try to convince them I didn't speak rudely when I did. They heard what they heard and I'm sorry.
I am a parent who makes mistakes but keeps rising from the ashes, dusting her shoulders off and trying to be better than what she was taught to be.
All kids dislike their parents at some point. I have no doubt at least two of my three will be writers. They will roast me. It will be my turn. And I will be glad they, like their mother, knew to work through the hurt on the page even as I wish I had been better.
My hope is that as they drag me, they recognize how hard I fight to break the patterns of my parents; patterns my parents took the first steps in breaking when I was a child, and from which I learned I can do better. I simply must keep trying.