I wish I understood what makes me happy. I SHOULD be very happy.
Sometimes I am, but somehow I've lost my ability to handle noise. And the fighting. The fighting. And I shouldn't but I have told my children that now I know why neither of my parents seemed very happy when we were kids, because of the fighting. I know it was more than that but I want them to know how much the fighting gets to me.
I tell them perhaps they'll appreciate me when I'm committed to a mental hospital because I finally couldn't take the fighting and the not listening and the blatant disrespect they have for me.
I wake up every day with the intention to make this. a. good. day. Yet as soon as they wake up, one by one, my intention fades away. The entire day looms ahead of me. Work. Cleaning. Fighting. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. That's it.
I don't go to work. I don't make any money myself. Is this why they have no respect for me?
Is it because I am a woman?
I believe if I could gather up the patience I used to have, the patience that has fallen piece by piece, wrapped up in furballs, and jumbles of clothes in closets, and the mildew which rears it's ugly head in between the pink tiles of the shower, maybe I could be the mother I used to be. The one that read books to her kids, played games of SORRY, spoke kindly to them rather than in orders and frowns and sighs.
I have lost my patience, my competitive spirit, my I-AM-WOMAN-HEAR-ME-ROAR, parts of my mind.
The only ones who get this are mothers. I love Andy. We have had our struggles this year but my marriage is solid. But he doesn't understand. He honestly tries. He "gets" to go to a job he enjoys where he has a paycheck and a yearly raise and the satisfaction of a job well-done.
I don't. I have a messy house, disrespectful kids, dirty litter, and a headache.
Soon, I'll have coaching, my classes, their classes, on top of all the rest.
Only mothers who have given their wombs, their modesty, their saggy boobies, their minds. We are the only ones who can truly feel this way.
I love the turds, each of them. But damn, they exhaust me, body and mind. Mostly mind.
I am fine. I will always be fine. I am stronger than what this sounds like. As soon as I post this, I will try harder. That's the power of a post. It's out there. I know it's out there. I know YOU know it's out there.
