So I am working from home today. I’m in my little office (which also serves as the cats litter box room) when Em comes in wanting me to hug her. I don’t have a problem with that, in fact, it is one of my most favorite things to do. So she jumps into my lap and gives me a big hug. Then she says to me:
Em: “Mommy do you have to work today?”
Me: “Yes love, I have to do my work.”
Em: “But why?” (starting to whine a little)
Me: “Because mommy doesn’t have much of a choice.” (which is the honest truth)
Em: (seemingly squeezing me tighter with her head nestled into my neck) “But I don’t want you to work anymore.”
Me: “I’m sorry honey, but I have to”
Angry about my reply, she swiftly swung behind me, cramming herself between me and the back of the rolling chair, puts both hands up the back of my shirt and claws her way down my back. Then, as if that wasn’t enough, she takes her legs and pushes me out of the chair. (she may be 3 1/2 but she is freakishly strong)
Now, this isn’t the first time anger like this has come out because mommy has to work. In fact, there is some sort of aggression towards me about working every single day. If she is up before I leave for work, she clings and cries until I break free to the door to leave, usually resulting in me crying half way to work. When I come home at the end of a long day, she is super sweet and good for about 1-2 hours and then she is just mean to me all over again for no reason. So what I am suppose to do?
My mom was a stay at home mom, so I didn’t have any of these issues nor did she. Unfortunately, due to the times, lots of moms have to work. If I didn’t work we wouldn’t have the money to pay mortgage. There is no way we as a family can survive off my husband’s salary, especially since I essentially am the “money maker” of the home. (which believe me doesn’t say a whole lot)
When my daughter starts acting the way she does, of course she goes in a time out, but I also put myself into this Guilt Time Out. I feel bad that I can’t stay at home with her all day like she wants. Sometimes it really makes me feel like I am a horrible mom. I know in reality that this isn’t true and that by me working I am doing what I can to make sure she has a roof over her head, food on the table and clothes on her back. Still, I let that guilt consume me. I love my little girl so much and I wish that money just grew on trees and that I could stay at home with her everyday.
I never realized how much I actually swear until I had a child. I thought my husband would be the “bad influencer” but turns out part of that title belongs to me. Now, I don’t try to blame my um (**cough**) daughter’s colorful at times language on someone else; I take full responsibility. In fact, now my kid is calling me out when I say a bad word. (if she is calling me out, then it must be bad)
So I took it upon myself to keep a tally of how many times I swear on a random day. Holy bologna (and no, that phrase is not what I would usually say)! While at work before 10am, about 7 “naughty” words had flown out of my mouth. I mostly blame this on my horrible work station and the computer that has had something against me for the past 6 years now (no, I don’t ever get a new computer. They can move me around from desk to desk 100’s of times, but new computer, nah) By the time I left work at 4pm, I had sworn about 15 times.
Now comes the home portion of the test. (**shaking my head**) I am not proud of this at all. I counted 10 times before I just gave up and stopped counting. I can hear my daughter’s preschool teacher now (when she starts in September), and I have no one to blame but myself. I must have been some kind of drunken sailor in another life.
So what can I do to break this habit? The “swear” jar doesn’t necessarily work because, let’s face it, who has a lot of change lying around anymore. Maybe I should look into some type of shock collar. If I swear I get a small electrical shock. That should do it, right? Thankfully, my daughter has gotten a lot better at not saying the certain words. I just wish that I could work on that. Everyone has their own vise right? I guess this is mine. Sh**!
1st time doing the Ketchup with Michele (olddognewtits) and Mel (accordingtomags). Please be gentle while squeezing the bottle. No bashing me on the bottom please. :p
Anyone remember 90’s flick “Angels in the Outfield”? I was fortunate enough to be an extra in that movie. Most of the baseball scenes were filmed at the A’s Coliseum in Oakland. This was the day I met Danny Glover. Such a sweet, caring man and extremely appreciative of his fans. I have his autograph stuffed away somewhere in a kitten diary (come on I was 11 or 12).
The past few days I have been feeling a little off. Dazed and confused (no not that kind of dazed and confused), lost is some kind of dark fog. I haven’t been able to concentrate like I normally do. My train of thought is rarely leaving the station, and if it does leave it falls off track not too far down the line.
So what is my deal? Definitely not pregnant. Not too much stress going on right now (although I probably just shouldn’t have said that). I figured I would just blame it on my nice little sinus infection that seems to have set up house and doesn’t want to leave. (wish I could charge rent). Then is dawned on me today. Monday would have been my aunt’s 65th birthday. There ya go! Feelings of overwhelming guilt seemed to overtake my brain without me even realizing it. Let me explain.
I was always super close with my mom’s side of the family (my dad’s side is a WHOLE other story). I spent a lot of time at that house. We were there every weekend. When my brother and I started school we had most of our dinners there (which was great because I loved my Nanie’s cooking). I even would have movie night sleepovers Friday or Saturday nights at least once a month. My Nanie was like a second mother to me and my Aunt wasn’t just an Aunt, she was a friend.
Starting in about 2000 my aunt started having mental breakdowns. It was the most horrible thing I have ever seen a person go through at that time. She was no longer my aunt, she was someone whom I no longer recognized. She would go into what doctors would say were “phantom pains”. She would rock herself back in forth on her bed with her head in her pillow, which eventually would make her lips and face swell from the constant rubbing of the material. I went into so many doctor offices, demanding they figure out what was wrong with her, but the concensus was the same with all the doctors “She is faking”, “There are no real pains”, “She’s doing it for attention”, “There is nothing medically wrong”. As a family member I refused to accept this. There had to be something wrong, until the day she tried slitting her wrists with a pair of dull scissors. She was in the local hospital psych ward for about a month or so. My poor Nanie was so distraught and after a few years of dealing with her daughter going in and out of the hospital, in and out of psych wards and being diagnosed in 2003 with uterine cancer, her health took a plummet. With not being able to find anything medically wrong with my aunt, with her having no insurance and with my Nanie’s health decline (she ended up having a hysterectomy which cleared everything for the time being, the stress was just too much), my family decided the best thing for my Nanie and Aunt was to put her in a convalescent home where she can be cared for 24hrs/day. Now, this wasn’t an easy decision and I’m sure my Nanie felt guilty to the last days of her life. No mother wants to be faced with something like that.
While my Aunt was in “the home”, she kept trying to sneak out of the facility (which she managed to do quite a few times). How, to this day I’m not really sure. Let’s just say the people that worked there didn’t care about anything or anyone and obviously weren’t capable of doing their jobs, but since we didn’t have the funds and since my Aunt had no insurance the option of suitable places was severely limited.
To make a longer story a little shorter, my Nanie ended up getting colon cancer mid-2006. For months she felt guiltier than she had before mainly from certain phone calls that were made to her in the hospital. After her surgery and being told the cancer had spread too far and there was nothing they could do, my Nanie went into a deep sleep (I was actually the last person to see her and talk to her as her eyes closed). A few days later she passed away, 1 month before I was to be married (again that is another story for another time). After her passing I began to see how the stress was affecting my mom. You see, my aunt was doing the same thing to her as she was to her own mother. After a little while and beginning to see my own mother’s health deteriorate, I took it upon myself to write a letter to my Aunt. Writing is my best way to communicate, I’m not very good when it comes to speaking to people, especially something this sensitive. I won’t elaborate as to what was said and I tried to word things as nicely as possible, but after the letter was received I was being known to people at the home and to my own brother as a hateful person.
I did try to patch things up later, but in all honesty I don’t think it did very much good. Not too long after, she passed away unexpectedly in January of 2008. The guilt I carry from all of this is overwhelming at times. Friends have told me that I did what I had to do and that I shouldn’t feel guilty, but I do. To be so close to someone growing up and to have such a drastic change to that person later in life (so drastic that you feel you have to protect the other loved ones around you) it’s heartbreaking.
When I realized that her birthday had passed and that is probably the reason for my hazy funk, I’m not sure if that guilt will ever go away. So I ask this question, how do you learn to accept the things you cannot change? Can you ever get over that feeling or is it a burden that stays with you the rest of your life?
When I turned 28, I noticed my first gray hair. Luckily for me it was under the rest of the hair on my head, so it really wasn’t that bad. Then at 29, I had my first child and the gray hairs haven’t stopped coming in. I have been known to pull out the unwanted little buggers, until I was told by numerous friends that for every gray hair I pull out, ten will grow in its place. Now I don’t truly know if this is true or just an old wives tale, but I sure as heck wasn’t taking any chances.
For the past few months I have noticed one particular gray hair on the top/front right side of my head. It seems to glisten in the bathroom lighting. What makes this even far more annoying is that it is extremely short. I can’t brush it back with all the other long, brown hairs on my head, oh no. It stands there constantly at attention, seemingly mocking me every time I look in the mirror. Ok ok, maybe I am being a little dramatic. I’m sure I am the only one that notices, but still I notice it. I gave up glaring at it and cursing it’s existence until the other morning.
What I noticed was truly, in my own opinion, horrific. Not only was that annoying piece still there, as if it would have disappeared, it seemed to have rounded up three other buddies. COME ON! REALLY! Instead of one gray hair taunting me every morning, now I have a quartet laughing back at me in the mirror. All small, all glistening in the light, all mocking me. Yay for getting older!