My mother and my younger sister were an incompatible parent-child pair (not that we thrived together so well). My sister seemed to come out of the womb with a keen sense of histrionics and entitlement. Sissy behaved as though she were a princess left at a woodcutter's cottage, and she was always peeking out the curtain to see whether the king's men were on their way to rescue her. That rubbed my sensible shoes mother all the wrong way. Sissy would be nicey-nice to strangers, but picked on me relentlessly, and our fighting was just one more bane of her existence. Not surprisingly, Sissy was interested in theater and music, and while I think she was fairly good, her somewhat outsized estimation of her talent bred some contemptuousness in my mother, who had studied music seriously, and perhaps this tried Mama's patience as she didn't want to be seen as discouraging my sister, even if she might have actually liked to.
I'm not sure love can really overcome personality clashes, but I think humor, of which my mother was notoriously bereft, and a gentle sense of correction would have only helped our situation. As it was, my mother just withdrew from both of us, never able to adjust to the time parenting took away from the things she enjoyed most, reading and playing the piano. I've wondered whether Bob and I are headed down a similar road. He just doesn't seem to have much use for me; he wants what he wants when he wants it, and sometimes I just feel like the servant appointed to address his needs till he can get away from us. There's a book written about everything now, so I'm sure there's one about this, but I don't know what it is.
Maggie (in VA)