Wallet making 101

“YOU DO NOT LOVE ME.”

This is what I got tonight from one of my children written in bold purple marker on a poster sized sheet of paper with a picture of a sad stick person and a broken heart.

An hour or so before that, my son sweetly asked me as I was escorting him into his room for another timeout, “Mommy, can you be a nice mommy?”  Ugh.

“I really want to be a nice mommy honey.  It’s just that when you repeatedly disobey me, break toys (on purpose), bite your sister (hard), spit on the floor (just because), and pee on my foot (direct aim), I just really don’t feel like it anymore.  Sorry, but you are not getting a hug right now either.  Get in your room.  Now.”

Talk about the shittiest day ender to an even shittier day.  Two out of my three children either think that I do not love them or that I am mean.  The third one is too nice to say anything, but I’m sure she was thinking one or the other (or both) as well.  My ladder climbing husband is currently at another very important mandatory “team building” work engagement playing Whirly Ball.  God Bless Corporate America.

Alas, I am on my own.  Again.

Until tonight, my love for my children has never been questioned (by one of my children).  Nothing out of the ordinary happened today that hasn’t happened on most days.  Periods of laughter, periods of fighting (them), periods of yelling (me), and periods where I reach my absolute breaking point and have to dig really deep to not completely lose it and/or admit myself to the nearest inpatient psychiatric unit.  “I’m interested in your 72 hour hold program.  Can you tell me more about it?  I have really been wanting to lace my own leather wallet.” 

To any stay at home mom/dad, single mom/dad, any parent who has spent an extended period of time alone with their children (days, not hours), and/or anyone who empathizes with any or all of the above, I have this to say…

YOU ARE AWESOME!  By saying this, I am not implying by default that I am awesome, but rather that I get it and wish that I could sit in my living room with you every single night after my kids are in bed, drinking wine and lacing up a wallet (It’s suppose to be therapeutic.  I learned it in grad school.  Money well spent.)

As a stay at home mom, there are days when I stare at the clock hoping that it ticks faster, and there are days that I wish I could make time stand still.  Neither one ever happens.

There are days when I am bitter, and there are days when I feel so unbelievably blessed.

There are days when I want to disappear, and there are days that I want to be so present in the moment that I cannot be present enough.

There are days when I feel appreciated and loved, and there are days (like today) that I would like to make my own poster, identical to the one my daughter gave me tonight with the only difference being that my stick person would be a little taller and I would spell “love” correctly, leaving no room for misinterpretation whatsoever.

And there are days that I have reached my absolute max point and literally want to crawl in a well ventilated hole with a pizza, a good bottle of wine, and a smoke (Yep, I said it!).

My daughter deserved the scolding she got tonight.  Yet there I sat, feeling guilty and unworthy of being her mother because of the “poster” she gave me questioning my love for her.  I had real tears forming and everything.

The mommy guilt quickly passed when five seconds after she gave me her very heartfelt message, she asked me while batting her long and beautiful eyelashes, “Can I have a Starburst Mommy?”

Holy shit!  I was played.  She wasn’t questioning my love for her.  She was very strategically manipulating her mother for a piece of goddamn candy.

Well played daughter.

“Have the whole fucking bag.”

 

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