Nights like this one, when my throat is hoarse from screaming, I’ve got one child laughing and jumping on the bed at 10:35 p.m. and one sobbing on the floor of her room and I’ve just broken a solid wood door, I wonder if the Universe isn’t sending me a gentle yet firm reminder that maybe I’ve got all the kids I can handle, and perhaps I’m not cut out for another.
And then I think to myself – “YOU are the one sabatoging this. YOU do not want a baby bad enough to get one. YOU secretly wish you lived alone, how can you really think anyone especially the ALL KNOWING UNIVERSE, for crying out loud, would believe that you really want to go through this a third time? Stop trying to fool people and move away. Stop eating away at your kids’ self esteem by yelling, and go live in a tent in the woods somewhere where you can’t damage anyone.”
It’s a chicken or the egg situation. Whatever came first, chicken or egg-I’m not pregnant, I suppose tonight that’s probably a good thing for the world. I’m not moving away, but I sure do feel stupid for bitching to my husband that he has too little tolerance with TeenHer. At least he didn’t make her cry until she choked herself.
Will she ever forgive me? I remember sentences (SENTENCES!) that my mother said to me 20 years ago. 25 years ago, even. Some of them hurt still every time they cross my mind. Sometimes after we fight I’ll pull out the soundbites in my memory and think to myself “this one. This is what she’ll remember in 25 years”. And on a good day (which this is most certainly not) I will stop before I speak and ask myself “Is this something you want her to remember in 20 years?” and sometimes, when the planets are aligned, I say The Right Thing. Or I don’t say anything.
She’ll be ok. You’ll be ok. Your memories of your mom’s sentences are colored by her absence, right?
I had this kind of week too. I hope everthing gets better for you this week.