too crappy to give a title

You guessed it. I’m feeling crappy and so now I’m back on my blog. I suppose I lasted quite a bit. I should give myself a pat on the shoulder for that. But I still feel like a bad mom, and according to my son, I’m a mean mom.

Seriously though, I don’t know what more I can do. I know what I should be doing. All those “shoulds”. But realistically, what I can do just won’t measure up to those lists of “shoulds”. So here I am, a bad mom. A crappy mom. And according to my son, a mean mom. Because I won’t change his class for him. He wanted to spend more time with his best friend in class and whined and whined about it tonight. Just as he had whined about it at least three or four times a week for a month now. Whine and whine and whine.

I need wine. A beer (my husband just got home and told me he bought some beer). No, better yet, a Gin and Tonic.

The thing is, I’m feeling crappy about many things. Yes, it’s whining, but that alone in itself isn’t it. It’s the endlessness of it, but that’s just not it either. It’s a combination of both and the empathy – yes, I totally understand how he feels, and the resentment that I’ve put my whole life at hold, at my prime, for these kids of mine, who only know to ask and ask and ask and if I don’t give them, they think I’m mean. What more can I give? I have given them their lives, and my life as well. It’s so unjust.

I stopped my career because I just couldn’t do the work I do while having emotional and mental space, and physical presence, for them in the way they need. I do work, but I’m working out of an obligation, a duty to my community. I’ve an ethical responsibility to my profession so I cannot just abandon it completely when I know I am needed. It’s not working to pursue a career.

I have all these opportunities opening up left and right, and I don’t grasp them. I can only look at them through the window and drool, maybe wave at them, shake their hands, because taking those opportunities completely mean taking me away from the kids, quite literally. I mean, like, actually moving away or being apart frequently. But oh, it’s my dream. It’s been my dream since I was 18, and I never lost sight of that dream. But now, with young kids, I just cannot pursue them. For another 10 more years or so, when I turn 50. When I’m too old to start in the game, that’s when I can finally freely go toward those paths, but by then, those pathways will be closed. I am just hoping that, it’s never too late to start, as they say. So I am hoping, even at 50 years old, close to retirement age, I can still somehow get in the game as a rookie in my own way.

I cannot continue on. My son just came in, after about 15 minutes of leaving me alone. He wanted to read. How can I ignore his desire to learn and read? Then he got upset at me because I was honest about his reading level. Don’t get me wrong. I think he’s an excellent reader. I’ve always thought he got my genes in language development. He was speaking several words at 18 months, and full short sentences by age two, and very soon after, reciting multi-syllabic words by memory quite eloquently. By age 4, he was able to memorize a whole story in a picture book that I’ve read to him, word for word for about 80% of the words. And with the proper intonations. But he’s still a first grader, and he still is learning more vocabulary. Of course, he won’t know all the sight words yet. That’s OK. But he was apparently not OK and the whining started.

I cannot even write my blog in peace. But at least my husband brought me the beer.

So word up, word out, lay low my mothas….

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