The last few weeks have made me wonder why it was that I ever felt so brash as to stop taking my anti-anxiety medications. I obviously have no business to be walking around and attempting to parent three kids when I am butt ass sober of any sort of pharmaceutical assistance.
Last night found Loren and me in the driveway where I had banished him after he had slugged his sister in the shoulder for no reason other than that she happened to look at him. I was trying to explain to him that being 13 sort of sucks but that it passes and the frustrations get more manageable. The hour before that found Cassidy and me in my bedroom where I had banished her after she had sufficiently pushed my buttons to the point where I thought I might get on the internet and start searching for a convent willing to take almost 10 year-olds. And the hour before that? I can’t remember. But it likely featured me trying to explain to Devon why he must not scream, spray water across the room, not chase the dog with his Buzz LIghtyear, why he can’t fly off the balcony while wearing his sister’s new pink pumps….
They are winning and I am quickly descending into some sort of angst ridden purgatory where moms look alive but where really we are in a walking comatose state filled with absolutely no air for breathing. My brother tells me I need a break of some sort. A vacation. Huh? Really? This incessant bitching of late is why a few weeks ago I could not even bring myself to turn on the laptop and blog. My thoughts were so drearily predictable and self-pitying that I wanted to barf. But then they just got too loud in my head and I had to put them somewhere. So rather than carve them into my arm, though that might be much more pleasurable at the moment, I will diddle them here.
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I only have one kid and I have those moments. I think it comes with the territory, though – dear GOD – I dread the teen and tween years.
Thank you, Heather.
I’ve been having a similar week. I week in which I desperately want to divorce myself form my kids and be done with it. A week in which Diva Girl, sensing my weakness, seems to have moved in for the kill. A week in which I have failed more spectacularly as a mother than I ever have before.
Although I wish you weren’t in this space too, I’m feeling a little better knowing that I’m not here alone.
It definitely is comforting to know that misery has little company. It is uncanny how they know when we are weak and vulnerable, kids are very predatory that way.
oh man what are you all doing? It seems like the only thing you do is writing comments. Don’t be crazy!