The Queen's Rambles

I am such a cold stone bitch. I feel like an automaton or something. I should strive to make Mike’s weekends fun and entertaining, but all I do is sit around and mope and say I’m not human. Maybe I need a therapist.

Having kids is hard. I love them. I love them so so so so so so much and never regret having them. But it is still hard. Where did I go? Most of the time I don’t mind wiping butts, wiping faces, getting everyone ready, nagging Erik until I’m blue in the face, keeping track, feeding, on and on and on. But it does get wearing when I feel like that’s all I do and I’m not even a person any more, just a robot child raiser with no hopes, desires, or worth outside all of that.

I guess I just want to be noticed or appreciated as a human instead of as a mother.

Do you know how damn hard I worked to get Erik to be a goat in his stupid preschool play? I put in EFFORT. That sounds so silly. That all this time and energy went into something so meaningless. He did a great job (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ptz477xdFyU if you need proof) and you’d never know he was reluctant. I don’t regret the energy I spent on it. It just feels so futile that I spend SO MUCH time worrying about him saying a few lines in a play when there are so many other things going on in the world.

I guess it is the little things that make a life, not the big things. Right?

And you know how I said I was being a calm and loving mother? Ha! That worked until we were at the park today and he wrapped his arms around the tree and told me he wasn’t leaving. I had already done my standard warning, talking, yadda yadda yadda. I was just done. DONE with this attitude. Done with hearing a child tell me a defiant no. D-O-N-E.

I grabbed his arm and drug him down the sidewalk, him screaming the whole way. When he dug in his heels and wouldn’t budge I picked him up and carried him. Mike had already taken Elsa to the van because it was cold outside.

I felt like a shitty mother, but I also felt like it needed to be done. He needed to know that he doesn’t get to just say “no” and have everything be all hunky dory. But I needed to calm down. Ugh. How do you balance having a polite kid and having a happy, carefree kid who enjoys his childhood? I don’t know. I think I need therapy. Who has time for therapy?