I’m all grown up…

It’s weird. But it just dawned on me that I’m all grown up. I remember being a kid and wanting so badly to be here, in this place. A place where I make my own decisions do my own thing, now I’m the boss of me. But it’s funny because I don’t FEEL different. Just the same as when I was little, but I’ve just SEEN more and DONE more. I stilll love swinging on the swings at the park. I still love the slide. And laughing til it hurts. Chrismas mornings and Halloween. I still love them all. How did it happen without me noticing? When did it pass? Was it one moment or a series of them? When I went from being a girl into being a woman. Was it my first kiss, my first boyfriend, my first love, my first dance, all of these things stringing together making me into a woman? I don’t know when it happened, but I know it’s official. I’m no longer a child, because i have my own children. I’m no longer little anymore. I’m all grown up. Me, just better I guess…

A Mother’s Wish

My daughter was on the bed between my husband and I last night and I looked at her and wondered what her husband would be like one day. I wish so much for her! I want her to have a husband that loves her, that adores her, that treasures her. I want him to look at her and see all of the things that I see. I want him to treat her so good, like such a princess, with a love so great. I want that for her. Love, above all else. I hope she never knows worry or need or frustration or anger. i know that this hope is impossible, because if one doesn’t experience those things, how can one truly know when you are experiencing the real thing? without pain and hurt, how can you know and appreciate love and happiness? Or maybe it’s just that by knowing those things, it makes the sweet, so much sweeter.

And of course for my sons, I want them to marry women just like me. πŸ™‚ What more could a mother ask for?

Entitlement Strike

Yesterday as I was sweeping the kitchen floor for the second time in the day, I glanced over at the kitchen window. The kitchen curtain had fallen down nearly a week earlier and my husband still hadn’t hung it back up. Anger pulsed through me as I continued to clean and then a thought came to mind. So clear it was if I was watching TV. I saw myself getting up on the step ladder to fix it myself, and because I wasn’t tall enough to reach the top, I pushed on it, lost my footing and slipped, I crashed through the huge kitchen window on to the driveway below. My body mangled with the curtain beneath me as I lay dead. A feeling of satisfaction crept through me as I imagined my husband rushing to the window and seeing my dead body below and being riddled with guilt. He saw the curtain and knew what had happened. It was all his fault. But too little, too late because I was gone. If only he had hung the curtain the day it fell instead of leaving it there. If only…..

This fantasy, although odd, is not the only one that I have ever had of this kind. I sometimes revel in the thought of what he would do after I’m gone. As I finished the day dream and continued sweeping, it dawned on me how strange the fantasy might really be. To kill yourself off in daydreams? Daydreaming of being dead??? Does anyone else do this or is it just me?? I meant it’s not like this was the first time that this thought has ever crossed my mine. I frequently envision different scenarios of my own death. And nothing ever suicidal mind you, but always caused inadvertently by someone else. Earlier in the day even, I had imagined myself tripping over my son’s sandals which were thrown at the top of the stairs as I was carrying a huge bag of laundry down to the basement. I imagined myself falling down the stairs and of course being dead at the bottom. How long would it take my husband to find me I wondered?

I’ve killed myself off in a variety of ways, I’ve been smashed in a car wrecks, attacked and killed by intruders, fallen through windows, down stairs, choked on food, had a heart attack, all ending in my own death. So odd and grotesque that I have these day dreams. All of them my own sweet personal revenge for not doing something or another. For not helping me enough, not doing enough, and me doing too much. What exactly do I want him to do you’re probably asking so that I can stop killing myself off in daydreams? Well, maybe cleaning the kitchen every once in a while for starters. Taking down the laundry, or putting away the clean laundry. Hey I’d be thrilled if he put HIS own laundry away!! Yes, he doesn’t even do that.

I’m just bone tired. I work 40 hours a week and commute 10 hours a week in a car with no A/C. Nope, none! I get home to cook, clean and wash and I’m in bed every night by 11:30pm on a GOOD night and all the while he’s just sitting on his butt watching TV. As if his male anatomy has entitled him to a life of being king and my female anatomy has entitled me to a lifetime of servitude. Like I said, I’m tired. Amazing how little things like not helping out around the house can kill even the strongest libidos.

My husband tells me, “well I don’t ask you to cook for me so why should I clean up the kitchen?” Are you kidding me? And when I DON’T cook he starts complaining that he has a headache and he hasn’t eaten all day. So that’s his excuse when I do cook for not cleaning, that he didn’t ask me to do it. When he cooks (which rarely happens), I better clean because he cooked. When I don’t cook and there’s dishes in the sink, he tells me “well you didn’t cook for me so I’m not cleaning up that mess!”. Either way around, it’s always ME cleaning up.

Anyhow, like I said. I’m tired. I’m going on a cooking strike. Good bye home cooked meals! Hello oodles n noodles, Mac n Cheese, hot dogs, Chef Boyardee, chicken nuggets on paper plates with plastic utensils. Cause Mama is all tired out.