I meant to share a happy story with you today-my/our wedding day (thank you Swistle, for the idea), but the day unraveled, I didn't get my entry in before the children came home, and now (I confess) I am writing as a way to "count to 10" out of anger, frustration, and deep sadness.
When there was 4 of us, parenting was tough...okay, it sucked still a lot of the time... but it wasn't what it is now. Now consists of my son not wanting to do his homework. Leonard would sit him down, before, and tell him to get it done and out of the way so he could play. For some reason that does not work when it comes out of Mama's mouth. Every day becomes a struggle. It starts with goofing off, quickly launches into him muttering and breathing heavy and breaking pencils, and continues on until...well until he runs sobbing and shouting to his room. I don't have any energy. I just want peace. And, when there is homework there is none. It is being transported back to the terrible twos, only I can't pick him up and hold him still while the tantrum subsides anymore. I can only get teary eyed, plead with him, and then beg him to respect the things his father said to him. I did it. And it hurt. I told the children that their behavior was disrespectful to the man who loved them most and only wanted what was best for them. I told them it was hurting me, it was them pulling me apart, as surely as if they each had a grasp on each of my arms....and also my heart, if it was still there. In short, I lost it. I am failing horribly at this single mom thing.
The part that hurts most is that, with the exception of the occasional drama brought forth by my daughter or the sometimes tantrums (that were quickly quelled by stern words from his father) of my son, peace, tranquillity and love used to be the bricks of my home. For the first time tonight I felt like running from my own children. I am lying...it's not the first time. It's the first time that I actually put my shoes on.
All that was once so right, the things I took for granted, is now so very wrong. Fixing it with the help of a "father figure" (my dad, my brother in law, uncles etc) doesn't appear to help. They need their father. He was our rock. I am just the wind blowing around.
I promise---okay, not promise, but hope--- that tomorrow I can clearly and level headedly relate to you the events and quirkiness of the best day of my life.
On the plus-make-a-sad-girl-happy-side, Shari (Thank you Shari for teaching me how to hyperlink.) gave me a wonderful award today, The Colours of Friendship, which really made my day. I can't wait to get my head on straight and hand them out to some of the many wonderful women and men I have met...and who have helped me along this saddest path of my life. You are all truly wonderful people and I am glad to call you friends. And this coming from a girl who used to cynically smirk at those who claimed close internet friendships. I was wrong. So wrong.