Every now and then my cup runneth over, and it’s bitter. A series of late nights, a few too many tantrums, a phone call from another teen’s parent – all of these things happened between Thursday night at TWELVE FREAKIN THIRTY and yesterday afternoon.
Weekends like this truly highlight the lonliness inherent in my flavor of single parenting. There’s nobody else to chase the naked four-year-old through the house WHILE the six-year-old clamors for attention AND the teen stomps through the house, slamming doors.
The buck truly does stop here. There is no relief pitcher, no backup band, no pit crew. There are no understudies, no dress rehersals, no retakes.
It’s JUST me.
I am rarely away from the feeling that I have just thrown one of my kids under the bus in order to get another’s needs met. If I talk to Alannah, the boys clamor for attention. If I draw my attention away from her, she gets frustrated and walks off. If I hold Joe on my lap, Daniel wants to be held too, and then turfwars over space on The MommyLap begin. If I take time for myself, they ALL go a little nuts.
At 2am, The Suckitude attacks. You COULD have read that book JUST once more – what would it have hurt? Maybe they WOULD learn more in a public school environment. Wow, maybe she really DOES hate you. You’re not going anywhere tomorrow so he can sleep as late as he wants – WHY did you *hold* him until he fell asleep? If wakeup times are optional, shouldn’t bedtimes be too? You really do suck as a parent, y’know. Wonder how Daddy would’ve handled that if he were here?
With the sunrise, the logic circuits kick in. It doesn’t matter how Daddy would’ve handled it – he’s not here, he’s never been here, and he has no plans of BEING here (and that’s when the desire to create this image and post it kicked in). ALL teens hate their parents at one point or another. He passed out in your lap. Alannah and Joe might do well in public school, but Daniel won’t – so work with their individual styles. You are the Mama, you have to be the willow and bend in the storm. Yes, it’s frustrating but at least you don’t have to worry about Disneyland Daddy.
And now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to excuse myself to take the boys out for the day. Where I’ll watch them play with tired eyes, wondering if “Daddy” thinks of them.