1. daylight saving time…..i can’t even look at you.
2. people (older, mostly) who stop me and the kids in the store all the time to say, “enjoy this time. kids grow up SO fast. cherish every blessed moment! it’ll be over in a flash.’
really. REALLY? last night my son stepped on my daughte’rs back and gave her a bloody nose. this morning, she bit his nipple and left teeth prints on skin through 3 shirts and then ran into the middle of the street, again. i’m actually trying to erase those memories from my mind as quickly as i can because i want to feel affection toward my offspring instead of intense fear/moderate resentment. if i ‘cherish’ and dwell on all the things that these two violent tyrants do, i will end up locking myself out of the house, on PURPOSE this time, or going fetal and not coming back.
look, i get that when you have grown kids, you’d give ANYTHING to have them tiny and cute again for a day, to hear their sweet thoughts and to be able to fix all their problems with your hugs. i respect that. but it is downright rude to dismiss how profoundly exhausting and anxiety-inducing and frustrating it is to have little kids. i mean, it is NOT for the weak. so don’t make me feel guilty for having hard days, for crying in my car sometimes. because, look, old lady, YOU DID, TOO.
i’m crazy in love with my kids and would run through fire for them. but i’ve been around long enough now to be suspicious that these little a-holes probably started the fire in the first place.
being “mommy” is amazing. but “mommy” is only said with a sweet smile on top of footie pajamas some of the time. they other times it’s screamed, it’s whined, it’s demanded, it’s repeated in inhuman rapid-fire sequences without stopping for breath. it often is said with just the right tone that it clearly implies, MOMMY, YOU’RE FAILING ME. AGAIN.
last night when we were 15 minutes late to a 30 minute karate class (#mailedit), i was screaming at the baby who was screaming at me and arching her back and refusing to get into her car seat because that’s how we do, and henry reproached me with, YOU SHOULD SAY YOU’RE SORRY. WE’RE ONLY SUPPOSED TO YELL AT BAD GUYS.
sigh. (breathe 2-3-4. you’re right, buddy. i’m sorry. now tie your karate robe tighter, i can see your nipple wound).
they’re worth all this guilt, and stress, and fear. of course they are. they’re huge blessings. without a doubt. and i don’t forget for a minute what a big fat miracle it is that they’re here and they’re safe and healthy and get to live with me in my house. BUT it’s all there. you can’t act like it’s not part of the deal. i think it’s totally OK to acknowledge that this is the best and worst of times.
it’s like when i got into PA school. i was so grateful and so excited, because it was hella competitive and a total honor just to be there in the first place, and i was geeked about the potential for a wonderful career at the end, but the middle part was HARD. it was sickeningly hard sometimes. i did not have fun most days. i ground my teeth down so far, i had no choice but to become a vegetarian. 😉
i was both being maxed out in both my excitement and my stress. and that’s what this kid thing is like, too. sometimes i think my heart might explode from how much i love them. but then other times i’m just convinced they’re trying to kill me.
3. people (again, mostly older) who act like robb, being a dude, is some kind of war hero because he shows up as a parent.
right now he’s gone for 2 weeks on business. this is no big deal, right? the womenandchildren left behind can fend for themselves, right? that’s always how it’s been. men are kind of figureheads for the home anyway, they don’t play an actual, real role, right? this is kind of the attitude we’ve encountered. this is just sexism, and i’ve talked about it before. it’s not how it works anymore. him being gone is a big problem because he’s half of our workforce.
you know i don’t want to applaud him for doing laundry. i’ll thank him privately. we attempt to be aware and grateful for each other’s efforts. (we often fail). but it was discovered by science a while back that penises don’t actually get caught in the mechanisms of washing machines or dishwashers and men, can, in fact, do housework. it’s also been found that both sexes can balance checkbooks, mow lawns, and soothe crying children. he does half the home stuff and makes half the money, i do the other half. that’s it. when both spouses are working outside the home, the inside the home stuff has to be split up or someone will get shivved. i don’t make the rules. i just know how to follow them. and it’s pretty old-fashioned (read: shitty) for people to assume that because i’m female i’m MOMMY MOMMY MOMMY 1st and full-time PA 2nd and because he’s male, he’s employee 1st and DADDY 2nd. instead, we’re together, both trying to give our kids the #1 spot with this sort of MODDY figure and also attend fully to our careers. we’ll see how it goes. for now, pass the wine.
4. sadness and grief.
ain’t nobody got time for it, but i’m still in all kinds of aches over all the people i’ve lost this year. shit. stop dying, y’all. i’m running out of chocolate.
5. fundamentalists being jerks and making it into the media.
i don’t even. i can’t. i mean, really. all religions. all sectors. just stop. whatever text you follow, i guarantee you there’s a message of love in it that’s repeated more often and louder than whatever bit you’re clinging to that is leaving you self-important and violent. please re-focus.
this week there’s a loud mouth Christian author making the rounds right now about how wives owe sex to their husbands and giving men techniques to ‘biblically claim’ what is due them. (hashtag rape)
that’s one of a million examples of similar stuff that makes me vomit in my mouth and makes me feel distant and cold to what is supposed to be the source of my warmth.
i’ve reached out to some friends who believe in God to help me figure out why people are so mean to each other if they supposedly have this loving God on their side. they’re wise and kind and i appreciate them holding my head up for me when i can’t.
that’s it for now, i guess. i could complain about the bad drivers in the farmers’ market parking lot this morning, but no one expects smart cars full of greens to be driven well, right?
thanks again, for being my therapists. if you charge by the hour, then, uh, this took me 15 minutes. 🙂