“Children aren’t happy with nothing to ignore, and that’s what parents were created for.”

5 Nov

My daughters, it’s not that I hate you, or resent you, or want you gone. It’s not that I’m tired of your shining faces, like new leaves, grinning through the wetness of the morning. It’s not even that I’d wish you were never born, because I wouldn’t. Your births have been the greatest gifts I’ve ever given myself.

But there are days, long cold in the heart days, when I cannot tolerate you one more second, where the fury worms it’s way through my heart and I can barely see for the rushing blood. There are days when your whining makes no sense, when I have given you everything I would have ever wanted from my mother and still you want more, draining me with words and demands and needs, so many god awful needs it makes my head hurt.

I’m quite sure that whomever originally thought of vampires was a mother.

Daughters, stop touching me. Or rather, eldest, please stop. I can tolerate the soft caress of my youngest, and yet the rough play of my oldest stops me cold, freezes me up, shuts me down. My youngest, you sit quietly in my lap until you nod off to sleep, haunted houses on A&E. My eldest, you screech and whine and demand demand demand you little dictator. I can’t deal with you. You’re just like me.

My daughters, this will pass. I know it. There will come a day when I will look back to the lazy Sunday’s we spent, you playing SNES with your father, me reading on the couch, and I will miss those days. You will be out with friends and lovers and we will be at home, wondering if you’re warm enough, if you’ve picked the right person to open your heart to.

Soon, soon it seems you will be gone from me. If only I can be patient, and love the moments you’re in right now.

10 Responses to ““Children aren’t happy with nothing to ignore, and that’s what parents were created for.””

  1. Judy November 5, 2007 at 2:03 pm #

    Well said, but I also have to thank you (again, always) for saying what so many of us wouldn’t dare. I think I’m too weak to ever be able to admit there are moments I just want someone to take my boys away, for awhile.

    And it does pass. My daughter just turned 12, and how I wish I could hold her on my lap and read her a story again. *sigh*

  2. Hannah November 5, 2007 at 2:03 pm #

    Lordy lordy, I hear you. I had a day like this with Isaac on Saturday. By the time he finally went to sleep that night (and it wasn’t good sleep either, thanks to the storm, he was up and down like a yo-yo all night) I was ready to sell him to gypsies just to get a minute’s peace.

    I love him to bits and he’s the best thing I will ever be associated with but by suppertime what was running through my head like a mantra was “how can I miss you if you won’t go away?”

  3. melanie November 5, 2007 at 2:49 pm #

    I found this site through a mutual friend. He’s knows it has been a tough decade or so for me and he thought I might find it helpful. He was right! I too have had these same thoughts, although I wouldn’t admit them to anyone but my closest friends or I guess a perfect stranger. Thanks for reminding me I’m not the only one out there.

  4. daisybones November 5, 2007 at 2:51 pm #

    “I’m quite sure that whomever originally thought of vampires was a mother.”

    Soooo feeling you there. Have spent many a night cursing about the little succubus.

  5. meredith November 5, 2007 at 9:59 pm #

    Thank you. I hate feeling this way. I hate it more that I am not alone, know it, but no one else says anything.

  6. alimum November 6, 2007 at 1:00 am #

    How brave you are to say all this, the have the ability to put these feelings of which so many of us are so embarrassed into words and then to do so. Your post was beautiful. Our children are vampires, literally sucking the milk from our breasts and figuratively sucking our attention, emotion, sanity. They are all consuming and sometimes we don’t want to be eaten.

    Thank you!

  7. nursemyra November 6, 2007 at 5:19 am #

    this may be an odd segue but have you read the poetry of Anne Sexton?

  8. thordora November 6, 2007 at 7:52 am #

    no dammit, but I keep meaning to. Perhaps that should be a Xmas ask. You aren’t the first to suggest it to me.

    And here I was thinking I was the only one feeling so absolutely drained from all this.

  9. Kelly November 8, 2007 at 2:38 pm #

    My children are 4 and 2 right now, and the best way to illustrate how little room to myself I get is to describe this closet-like powder room on our first floor. It’s barely large enough to get in yourself and sit down to use it. But frequently, during a pit-stop, I find myself in there with both children. Often, I simply bury my head in my hands and sigh. I simply cannot get away from them.

    There are so many time I want not to be touched. Sometimes I’d like to huddle in the dark corner of my room covered with a blanket. Just to hide.

  10. thordora November 8, 2007 at 3:03 pm #

    Mine get blocked out of the bathroom. I absolutely refuse.

    I don’t know how SAHM’s do it. I’d go mental. (More than I already am)

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