Fuck it, notes from a tough night

Posted: October 9, 2011 in Uncategorized

What I really want is to pass for a single person all the time. I don’t want to be seen, not as a parent, not ever.

What I really want is to do whatever I want whenever I want to, spend my money however I want and only on things I want. I want to take off for a permanent road trip on a whim, or sleep in on a Wednesday or read a book all day Saturday.

What I really want is to not worry if my emotional state of being is a healthy display for a growing kid to witness. I don’t want witnesses, or the guilt that goes with losing your shit in front of your kids. Kids pay way close attention, it’s unnerving.

Argh, what I really want is to just write a blog post about whatever new and exciting thought I have going on right now. O, but tough shit my head is convoluted with the ongoing tug-of-wars: to role model self-care yet I am best at neglecting myself | to role model healthy choices yet it is easier to just be weak sometimes and eat what hurts or choose a mind numbing activity instead | to be fun loving and exciting but clean your room and don’t be rude | yes of course make your own choices, yes you get a say in your life but do what I tell you because fuck does it piss me off when you don’t. This is my life after all isn’t it? Don’t I get a say too?

What I’d like to say is excuse me I am not up for modeling anything, I’d like to wallow and get numb with a bad movie. Yes, I’d like to just eat toast for dinner and not workout and you, child, you eat your green beans and meatballs and potatoes and go play outside. No, no screen time go read a book. Yes, change into clean clothes everyday and shower every other or few at least. What? Why am I wearing the same jeans all week? What?–go clean your room.

What I really want is to walk out. That’s right. I’d like to run off to another country and have lovers of all kinds at anytime of night or day. Or work on boats for months at a time and make tons of money that I only spend on traveling. Or just rent a tiny room and barely eat and save every penny I make because I don’t need much to be happy. Or how bout get my doctorate or take a job in any state I find one in cuz I don’t have to worry about how moving will effect their little hearts or their relationships with important people.

Do other parents berate themselves for “failing” their children? For not always being completely and entirely awesome every waking minute? I have heard of folks that do everything right: career first, working marriage, house, dog, baby born in spring, a hybrid car that converts into a stroller and nanny, a fridge that poops out balanced meals three to five times daily, three extracurricular activities plus a foreign language or two, college apps prepared in preschool.

Fine, I can’t provide all these amazing material things or even healthcare but aren’t there more important things that I am giving that are more valuable than a mercedes benz stroller? Don’t guffaw at my ludicrousness; I know, theoretically, that these are no-brainers. Of course my attentiveness for their free will and confidence, decision making skills and resilience,  self-love, sense of emotional security, their conflict resolution skills are far more important than a brand new set of clothes every three to six months or a wii. I get it–technically. Knowing this doesn’t protect me from punishing self-criticism. Knowing this doesn’t temper my guilt or sense of failing–by mainstream standards anyhow.

Ok fine, let’s forget mainstream standards for a moment, as if my bubble is made of the strongest opalescent film ever. The counter culture? Shit, my kids watch tv, eat junk food, do not know how to compost or eat out of dumpsters, don’t ride bikes everywhere. Look, I am hard on myself. I’m exhausted by the pressure of raising “cool” kids and being a “cool” person simultaneously. I don’t give a rat’s ass about being cool actually or if my kids are but fuck do I feel that pressure. Too much pressure.

Single parenting blows. Blows so bad I’d like to quit altogether.

Maybe I despise parenting because I am not done being parented, maybe I still want to be cared for, maybe I am jealous of the love and attention my kids get, maybe I just want what they have.

The worst part is, I don’t even get to believe in any fairy tales.

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Comments
  1. jenee says:

    Thank you for having to guts to say it. All of it. Really, I mean that.

  2. kaley says:

    THANK YOU a million times over for this.

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