This weekend sucked. I was going to “fluff” up the “sucked” part and be all, “This weekend was Stinky Stinkerson.” But if I wrote that, the the “totally honest” part of my title would not have been “totally honest”.
On Parenting: Can I Be Totally Honest?
It was not a weekend of illness. Nor a weekend of tragedy. Nor a weekend of poverty, nor oppression, nor starvation, nor anything worthy of garnering an uprising of pity, concern or having a group of friends rally and bring my family meals for 2 weeks (though I would never turn that away, rain OR shine)…
It just sucked.
The “Mom!!!” part of this weekend, sucked.
I am pretty sure I only have 1 nerve, and that’s been frayed since… oh golly… I think I was born with one frayed nerve back in the ’72. Not a good start in the journey of motherhood.
It actually got to the point where I had to run out of the house. Run. I ran down my gravel drive and hucked rocks. And I grunted loud even though I could only find girly, prissy rocks. TOTALLY un-grunt-worthy. That made me angrier.
I wanted to throw boulders.
A blackberry bush attacked my ankle and drew blood. I didn’t even feel the sting until the pulsing anger passed. I sat on a stool in my pantry and ate a fistful of chocolate chips.
Is this too “real”? Is this too “raw”. What if I told you I also kicked 2 balls and a tin bucket?
Keepin’ it real? Indeed.
What do you think of me now? It makes me uneasy to really share this struggle. But I’m going to, friends. This is me… raw and unedited.
Except for spellcheck and some editing.
All I can say is… the last few weeks have been wave after wave after unrelenting wave of opposition, manipulation, argumentation, boredom, requests, stupid puppy antics and crumbs everywhere. I am sitting in a pit eager to release my offspring to the public institution that is school, yet I teeter on a cliff, reaching for my babies… still wanting to keep them all to myself.
Yes. No. Yes. NO!!!
Friends! I kicked things! By the way, one soccer ball went right in the dog kennel (no dog was in the kennel). It was aha-wesome. Also, had the dog kennel not been there, I’d have broken a basement window. Probably.
I am d-to-the-o-n-e. Today, I was talking with a friend who has an infant. We talked about leaving the infant to cry it out in his crib so she could regroup and get away from the crying.
That was what I did when I ran out of my house. I was separating me from the noise. The mess. The opposition.
“But, Jenny… if you disciplined your children consistently and raised them to be responsible…” Let me stop you there. I don’t even have anything to be able to answer that. That is simply because I feel the same way! I MUST BE DOING SOMETHING EVERYTHING WRONG!
IF I could find my “Mom Card”, I would hand it over… along with the keys to my minivan.
This is not my minivan.
Except I can’t find my “Mom Card” because either the dog chewed it up or my middle daughter used it for a craft, or the youngest peed on it or my oldest used it as a weapon.
Please be nice to me. I’m in recovery.
