SUCH a disappointment

I am so disappointed in myself. Wow--simply typing that has opened up QUITE a can of worms in my psyche (pshaww--and my husband says that my analogies are lacking! Lacking the recognition they deserve, I say!), when I really wanted to discuss just the one thing.

No...I wasn't referring to the fact that I am ridiculously out of shape, but thanks for bringing me there. I think we discussed that ad nauseum when I went on and on about how hot I used to be and when I talked about looking like "...who did it and ran," not to mention all of the posts about everything from eating healthy to plucking gnarly chin hairs.

My disappointment has nothing to do with my appearance (at least not as far as this conversation is concerned), nor does it have anything to do with my eating regimen. For once my complaints have nothing to do with food. Or lack of food. My disappointment stems from my reaction to all of my children being in school.

I really thought I had a handle on this whole school thing. When my oldest started, I was able to hold back my tears--mostly because I had two more clawing at me from their stroller and I am pretty sure that their older brother tried to drown them in the tub that morning. It's a little easier to choke back the tears when rage consumes your body. Of course, then I had to deal with the overwhelming amount of guilt I had because my day was so much better and brighter after monster-child went to school. I think I'm still harboring a little of that (and it was three? four? years ago!).

When child number two started school, I will never forget walking to the bus and almost completely losing it. With each step I said to myself, "It's not about you, it's about them, it's not about you, it's about them, it's not about you, it's about them, it's not about you, it's about them," but that wasn't working and I was a little too close to a breakdown. I felt the sob at the back of my throat and the tears getting ready to explode from my eyes when another mother said, 'Hey--didn't I see you at the school yesterday?" It is unbelievable how talking to her for a half a second was enough to save me from...me. My brain switched gears and the urge to cry did not return. After the bus came I waved and went for a long walk with my youngest. Aaaaannnndddd then came the guilt. AGAIN.

Of course, if I didn't enjoy the time I had with my youngest I would feel guilty about that, so I think we can all agree that I cannot win. Nor can you, I'm sure, because it is mom guilt. Which is [one of many reasons] why when I die I am coming back as the dad. Dad's are [generally speaking] able to stay out of their own heads. It either is or it isn't--there's no thinking about it or analyzing it further...it's so nice. All of those male traits that drive women crazy in dating and marriage really come in handy when raising children. The bastards. this is where I am supposed to quote Yoda, but I really need to get back to my disappointment. (You know there is something wrong with you when you are eager to "...get back to [your] disappointment!")

Child number three--the child God sent to me so that I wouldn't harm the other two--started "KIN-DEE-GAR-TEN" last week and I've been preparing for it all summer. I was so excited that all of my children would be in school. I even wrote pretty-stinkin-good poetry  about it.

Because we are either A. wanted for murder in seven states or 2. in the Witness Protection Program (oops--my cover is blown!), there is a chance we could move soon and a probability that we will move within a year (two?), so we decided that it doesn't make sense to get a job now. Not that they are hiring...evidently it isn't so easy to get a teaching job in NJ...and it has been so long (three? four years?) since my last teaching gig, I'm not sure what my chances would be. I did work for about a month last year at a Homeschool Academy, but the work load to money ratio was not in my favor (as it tends to be when it comes to teaching jobs). Add to that all of my crazy health issues and we decided it wasn't the right time.

Which brings me to this year. And my disappointment. I was most excited about making this the year of "ME." That's right--I couldn't wait to have time to exercise without being interrupted, have time to cook without being interrupted, to write my blog without being interrupted...to TALK ON THE PHONE...now we are just getting crazy!

So my excitement was in full force--especially after spending the last day of summer fighting and yelling and screaming --I could not wait. I even read my poem several times to get myself psyched for the big day. And then my children got on the bus without saying goodbye...without giving hugs...and without looking back.  Hindsight tells me that the oldest was trying to find seat-belts for his sisters, and everyone was frazzled and afraid of missing the bus, but I felt so...awful. I was not excited and I did not have fun. I sulked. And cried. And wallowed in self-pity. And got angry with myself for sulking and crying and wallowing in self-pity.

You see, I have been dealing with some issues lately. For example, we went to a dining establishment--the Log Jammer-- in Lake, George, NY recently--a restaurant my parents took us to when I was young. I was telling my husband and children my story and they were less than thrilled or excited (hopefully you aren't as bored as they were!). We get to our table and my children start jumping and pulling on--my husband. Great, right? It is--I know, but I looked around the restaurant and saw all of the children curled up in their mother's arms and sitting in their mother's laps, but not my kids. They aren't big cuddlers (the first two stopped the second they could walk and the third will do it, but only for minutes (seconds?) at a time or if she is hurt/and/or wants something) anyway, but I remember seeing all of the dads drinking beer, sending texts, having conversations, and I realized that I was the dad in our scene. I could have had a beer. I could have sent a text. I could have had a conversation. Okay...I couldn't really do the beer thing because of my medication, and I couldn't really text because I am the only one in this century who does not have the ability to do that (though I may be the only one in this century who needs it based on the lengthy messages and telephone conversations I've been known to have) and as for the conversation--I was having it, but no one was listening, but the point is, I could have.

I know I should be thrilled and I am. Really. This is what I've tried to work up to all these years--independent children who are able to give me five seconds to my self. Was I jealous? They do tend to idolize their father and lately they go out of their way to tell me how great he is and how much I suck (not in those words, but I know), so I'm sure that has something to do with it, but I don't know if I am necessarily jealous--it just made me sad.  And made me question if I'm "doing it wrong."

When they had the "...take her or leave her..." attitude that first day, I felt like I did at The Log Jammer. And THAT is why I am disappointed in myself. The logical person in me (waaaayyyyyy in there--you've got to want to see it...) knows that it is a good thing that my children are eager to go to school (and they have hugged and kissed me goodbye every day since) and that they can function without me. She knows that kids are fickle and they aren't supposed to be our "friends" anyway. She knows that her children love her. Unfortunately, the batshit-crazy person in me took over years ago and  we pretty much do what she says.

The point of all this is the fact that I am disappointed in myself for being so....weak with all of this. I know I am stronger than that--I believe most of the jokes I make, so feeling all gloomy and getting all weepy when school started really disappointed me. It is not, however, as disappointing as it would be to not have them in school. That would really make me cry.