That is it. I quit. Seriously...
I don't know who I was kidding when I thought I would successfully be able to raise children. I am failing miserably.
I cannot remember when it was that I had a thought of my own. I don't know what it is like to have quiet in my house. I have no idea what it feels like to be able to eat an entire sandwich by myself. Forget about talking on the phone to anyone without being interrupted, and I think the last time I had a shower without a little person coming in to ask me if they could have a Popsicle at 8am was 13 years ago.
When Carl and I first got married we had a 5 year plan. We decided to wait to have children for 5 years. We wanted to grow as a married couple, become financially stable and possibly be able to buy furniture somewhere other than a second-hand store before we brought children into our love nest. 9 months after we said "I do" we became pregnant.
Two and a half years later we were pregnant again.
I was feeling good with having children so young. I was happy with the fact that I would still be a young 42 year old when our oldest went away to college. 40 is the new 30 right? I envisioned driving up to Hope's college on parent weekend in my BMW convertible and my hair blowing in the wind. Carl and I would be heading on to yet another cruise after we spent the weekend with our college student.
It was a nice dream...
Then we got pregnant again... and again.
Don't get me wrong, I love my children more than is humanly possible. That does not mean that they do not drive me batty just about every day of their little lives. Just because I love them, it does not mean I do not hide in my closet everyday around 3 pm humming "I'm A Little Tea Pot." Just because I love them, it does not mean that I am 20 lbs. heavier than I was on my wedding day because of all the extra half-eaten chicken nuggets that I consume off of Dora The Explorer dinner plates.
I am with my children 24/7. Homeschooling is stupid. OK, I did not really mean that, I just had to say it out loud for a second.
When people come up to me and say "I don' t know how you do it!" I want to say "I don't know either because I am damn tired... I mean damn damn damn tired."
You know how I had that dream of driving up to parent's weekend in my fancy car... well now I will be driving up to parent's weekend in my minivan with a first grader in the backseat and with fruit snacks stuck to my pants.
I know, I know, someday I will miss all of this. But right now I just want to have a little peace. I just want to be able to teach the 7th grader algebra without a baby crying, a four year old running through the house asking for a snack because she has a tapeworm, and a 10 year old playing civil war and shooting all of us for treason.
I just want to be able to clean the kitchen and have it stay clean for longer than 45 seconds. I just want to be able to wash only one head of hair a day (my own) and wipe only one butt a day (again, my own.) I want to be able to run to the store without packing luggage to go with me. I just want to be able to get through a check-out line without little people asking for candy and then screaming at the top of their lungs when the answer is no. I just want to get through one mother-loving day without listening to whining.
Sure, I pray to the Blessed Virgin for strength... but she only had one child and IT WAS JESUS CHRIST HIMSELF! I ask you, how difficult could He be? I bet He never asked his mother 21 questions after she got off the phone with the Maytag repair man. I bet He never asked for banana pudding and then changed His mind after two bites and cried for the chocolate pudding. I bet He never woke up his mother 3 times in the middle of the night for a glass of water, to go pee and to help Him find his baby doll that He can no longer find (which is laying right beside him). I bet He never once rolled his eyes at His mother or told her she was unfair and ruining His life!
Ahhh, but who am I kidding? I am in no comparison to Mary my Mother. I bet she never told her child that he was a pain in the butt and going to send her to the loony bin and he would have to take the bus to visit her since the police were going to take away their car because of all of the hands, heads, and feet that are sticking out of windows and are going to get popped off by the next passing semi truck! I bet she never referred to her child as "twerp." I bet she never hid in the bathroom eating a box of ding dongs and crying either.
I suppose if I thought I was a fabulous mother I would not try to be better. It is a good thing that I think myself a failure... I have no where to go but up (or to an insane asylum, which ever comes first.)
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