Tuesday, June 9, 2009

Who Said Motherhood Was Rewarding? or Disappointments Part 2

My greatest joys can sometimes fuel my greatest anger....That's motherhood friends!

I know that I have believed that being a mother was wonderfully rewarding, but today, I can't quite recall those moments- in fact, it feels like a joy-ride through hell. And I know at least one other woman who is nodding her head in agreement with me right now- my neighbor Haley. Just a few minutes ago, as I sat here in my kitchen downloading a recipe for tonight's dinner, I heard her screaming for her son, over and over again. For about five minutes she was calling his name (in various forms- beginning with the nice nickname, then the modified nick-name, then the formal first name, then the even more formal first name, then the last straw- and we all know this one- the formal first, middle, and last name- YOU GET YOUR BEHIND TO THE DRIVEWAY RIGHT THIS MINUTE!!!") I could hear the anger and fear in her voice as he continued to hide from her and that motherly, sisterly, neighborly instinct kicked in and I went running outside to see if I could help, along with my other neighbor, Donna. Meanwhile, Haley found him- he was stowed away in her garage- and I am certain it was all she could do to hold it together and not throw him out a window. I know this because earlier, my son Liam, whose class performed plays for all of the parents today, out and out refused to wear the costume I had made him. I couldn't even phathom having gone out of my way this morning to get him something to wear so he would look like a ghost (Tom suggested I buy him a white T-shirt and paint the word "ghost" on the front- which I did!). And seeing him, with his script and no shirt, I stood at the back of the classroom, shooting daggers at him from my widest eyeballs, mouthing the words "PUT ON THAT SHIRT RIGHT NOW LIAM!!!" while he just smiled and shook his head "NO." Then I went home, threw a tantrum and told my husband that I quit. I'm done. Who cares if these kids have a mother who loves them, who goes out of her way to make sure they have what they need? Who cares? NOBODY.

And as I laid on my mattress, sobbing (Okay, I am PMS-ing people, give me a break), I remembered an incident with my own mother (she will not like this memory, I am sure)...I was a freshman in high-school and had gone away for a couple of days to a choral competition in Williamsburg. Well, when our bus finally arrived back at the school, instead of running into her open arms, appreciating how much she had missed me, I ran instead to my new boyfriend, a senior I had met on the trip, and began making out with him- in front of her. What a doophis I was- who does these things, people? Well, I did and boy- that woman was seething and I don't think she spoke to me for a week thereafter, except to tell me how inappropriate my behavior was, how I should never be kissing any boy like that unless I was married to him (to which I so kindly responded "I've done that before- what's the big deal?"), and how she'd slaved while I was away on making, by hand, a new bedskirt for my bed.

My point is that we give such great effort to these souls we bring into this world and the reality is that they are bound to disappoint us and hurt our feelings in the deepest ways because they are just trying to find their way through their own lives and don't understand that we've made our deepest commitment to giving them the best of us- our kids do not make life hard on us on purpose (I think)- I wasn't slobbering all over Eric Small because I wanted my mother to wish I was an ant she could just squash- I was doing that because I was immature, hormonal, and, well, a teenager. Liam didn't refuse to wear the ghost outfit to be an unappreciative twit- he doesn't like to be the center of attention and didn't want to stand out for any reason, and in my heart, I know this.

I am laughing, now, as I write this (hopefully you are too, Mom) and I'm only hoping that I can continue to find the truth in the muck that my emotions can become at the hands of my children (and at certain times of the month).


Lori said...

Oy, you said it, sister! I know most of it is just payback for what we did to our own moms...like EVERY TIME I'M ON THE PHONE, but hoo, it's frustrating. On a different note, I love the word, "twit". I'm gonna have to remember that one... ;) Hugs to you. :)

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Forty-three year-old, mother and staunch advocate of four young children, passionate warrior of truth and self, finding the soul in each day, sharing my struggles and triumphs as I live them. Mostly I do this for me, so my thoughts don't race as much at night as they used to. But I also give this to those of you who need to know, in any or every way, that you are not alone.

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