This is a post that's been rolling around in my head for a day or so now, so I'm just going to put it out there all stream of consciousness like...
I think I might be some sort of mommy-aberration. Let me explain that a little.
I read. a lot. anything I can get my hands on. newspapers, magazines, books, blogs, cereal boxes. It's got words, i read it. can't help myself. So in my reading travels, I read a lot of mom-blogs. Some are twin mom specific, some are just parenting stuff. and what I want to know is, are they all full of crap, or am I some sort of freak of nature?
I don't want to spend 24/7 with my kids. they get on my nerves. they whine. a lot. the sound of children, especially mine, whining makes me want to get a shotgun and blow my face off. Don't get me wrong. My girls are funny and fun to play with. and when they are not hungry/ tired/ too hot/ too cold/ bored/ not overstimulated... etc they are awesome. But in reality, that is about 20 min in total each day. Ok, maybe I'm exaggerating, maybe it's really like an hour of total time. That means that there are roughly 9 hours of each blessed day that I want to rip my own ears off and eat them.
So, you say, get out more, hire a babysitter, do something for YOU. that sounds awesome. like rock on, dude! but seriously, let me explain what the fall-out from a night out does for me. I won't even touch on the hangover that would invariably occur from the appalling amount of alcohol I would need to consume to begin. I will only talk about having to surgically remove both children from my legs this morning and throw them into the living room, run to the door and slam it in their faces so that I could leave for work this morning. Why, you ask? I'm not entirely sure, but I'll hazard a guess it'd be because I had the audacity to go out after work on Wednesday and not get home in time to tuck them in. So all day yesterday I had C crawling up my leg doing her best to re-implant in my uterus and today they both screamed enough to make themselves choke and gag because I was, gasp, leaving them with the babysitter. The same one they've had since they were 7 months old.
They are going to preschool in the fall. I can only imagine how fantabulistic that's going to be. Not to change the subject entirely, but I also can't seem to fathom the idea of 'playdates' and the guilt some people apparently have about whether or not their preschooler has enough friends. They are 3. How many of you still speak to or even remember your preschool friends? Did you have any friends? are you now a social pariah? We didn't have playdates. I had a sibling. he was 3 1/2 years younger. and a boy. and we played together! I know, the horror! how could my mother have been so cruel? playdates are a way for mom's to get together and let their kids run amok so that you, the mother, have someone to commiserate with and you don't stick your head in the oven when roasting a chicken. Don't get me wrong, that's an important reason to schedule a 'playdate'. But don't for one minute think that your child's future happiness hangs in the balance.
I really think we all need to get over ourselves. I can't stand feeling like their entire future rides on my shoulders. Start those flashcards now, or your kids will be flippin' burgers and living with you at 38. And make sure you get in enough orchestrated, carefully un-constructed 'playdates' so you don't wind up chatting it up with barbara walters about what it's like raising sociopaths. And absolutely never ever lose your cool and scream like the mother f-ing banshee or you'll wind up footing the therapy bill for the attachment disorder that explains your adult-child's inability to form a lasting relationship. Which is really the reason why they are flipping those burgers and living with you at 38. It's all your fault. You didn't love them enough.
Let me clue you in... we ALL have issues. It isn't necessary mom's fault. and it certainly isn't because she served you pancakes for dinner. and burned them. twice.