I shared some of these thoughts with a friend earlier and thought I would turn it into a blog post. I am afraid that I may have allowed myself to become TOO defined by motherhood. I am reading this book on my Kindle: The Rules to Raise Happy, Healthy Children and realized I’m kind of breaking Rule 10 which pretty much says to make sure you keep nurturing the things that make you a person/have nothing to do with parenting. This is good for the kids because the pressure to perform can become overwhelming if they realize that your personal success is entirely dependent on how they turn out! The book gives examples such as having a career your passionate about (not AT ALL), taking a vacation once a year without your kids (I have NEVER been on a kidless vacation), or doing some other hobby regularly. It says “otherwise, when the kids finally leave home after 18 years, you won’t know what to do with yourself.” That last part is SO TRUE!!! My kids have been going away to camp every summer for the past 3 years for 2 weeks at a time, and I don’t know what to do with myself while they’re gone! This last year I actually got pretty depressed while they were away and found myself just wanting to sleep, like if I just slept the time they were gone would go by more quickly?!?! Sure, I am involved a little bit with politics, but even that has dwindled lately as I find myself feeling more and more guilty every time I go do something without them now that they are no longer spending weekends with their dad. When they were it was a little bit easier, I had a life and let my hair down pretty much every-other weekend while they were away.
I think the problem has multiple things feeding into it.
#1 Mother’s Guilt; Continue reading I’m a Mom and a…????
My babies, my sweet little girls, my everythings
no longer tiny or completely dependent,
you do not fit in the cradle of my arm
and it’s been an eternity since I could carry you around.
But I can still wrap my arms around you
and as I’m comforting you, it comforts me,
every time you call me mom or mommy my heart leaps.
Continue reading My Babies
This past week I have been thinking about family even more than usual and what it really means. For those of you that don’t know me, you could say I come from a rather dysfunctional family, and that’s putting it lightly. My mom and I have had a rollercoaster of a relationship, I have thought at times that I would never speak to her ever again and would be ok with that, but then we always patch things up – because she’s my mom. My dad would have turned 68 on Thursday, August 15, but he did not as he died June 22 of this year. I only really built a relationship with him in my late teens, and it had never been one that flowed super easily, but I did love him and do miss him. My kids haven’t seen their dad since January 13th and haven’t seen their grandparents or any of their other family on their dad’s side since Christmas of last year. Nobody has made any attempt at seeing them or talking to them, the only effort has come from them, two little girls wanting what every child wants.
I wanted so desperately to give my children a “better” family than the one I grew up in. I wanted them to grow up having cousins who they had an unbreakable bond with, I wanted them to have a dad who they would grow up calling dad and whom they knew they could always depend on. I envisioned large family gatherings, reunions, their having a dad who would proudly be at every milestone in their lives; every time they spoke, sang, or played an instrument on stage, every time they scored in a game or advanced in their chosen passion, every time they graduated, when they first moved away, when they got married and had babies of their own. I hoped for them that they would never know the pain of feeling neglected or abandoned, that I could keep them from being hurt by people they cared about at least until they were old enough to go through their first inevitable break-up. Continue reading The One Thing I Can’t Give Them