Mar 22, 2010

I'm not supposed to be here

I coach one of my kids' teams, and one of my co-coaches is a doctor. Nice guy. His kid is on the team. So we're leaving, and he and his kid get into their Corvette and drive home.  I don't begrudge him, nor do I want a Corvette. When I watch them drive away, I'm reminded that it's supposed to be me. I was supposed to be a doctor. My whole life, that's all I wanted. I point the finger at myself. It's my own damn fault I'm broke. I could have NOT gotten married so young, NOT had kids so young, NOT squandered my chance.  But I didn't.  I hate myself just a little bit for it, too.  I hate that I wasted my chance. I hate that I didn't utilize 1/100th of my talent and skill and intelligence to DO something with my life. I hate it hate it hate it.  I hate that I have to be grateful for my part time hourly wage job because I would be screwed without it. I hate that I have to work two full shifts just to pay my phone bill. I hate that if my husband get laid off, we would be in the worst Challenger Deep level of trouble. I hate that my boss treats me like a brainless peon. I hate feeling like a failure. Just call me Captain Almost. It doesn't feel like my life sometimes, like this can't be really as good as it gets.

Mar 12, 2010

The Good Mother

Today I had to delicately explain the basics of a rusty trombone to my son. Some kid at his school kept saying it, and my ever-curious kid asked what it was. I didn't get specific about things, but I did let him know that it was an unusual sex act and that he should never repeat it at school.  That led to a convo about shooting heroin, smoking foilies, and why marijuana grows on the highway.  I believe in full disclosure (with age-appropriate limitations) and telling the truth.  I don't overshare, but I am honest with  my kids.  They've opened a condom and fooled around with it, filled it with water, put it on a cucumber, etc.  They know how to recognize drugs and drug paraphernalia, what dating should be and that's it's ok to dump people who aren't right for you, how credit cards work, the basics of car maintenance, and how to make dry ice bombs.  I don't shove edgy stuff in their faces... it's already there.  They know they can bring it to me for clarification, and then they can put it aside, satisfied. I don't want them to make huge mistakes that ruin their lives just because I was too uncomfortable to answer their questions properly.

I don't try to be their friend, and I don't try to be the cool mom.  I do the best I can, and I raise them the best way I know how.  For me, that means guiding them, educating them, shaping their values and morals, and then helping them stretch and grow into independent, self-confident, productive citizens.

What does being a good mother (or father) mean to you?

No. Words.


Mar 7, 2010


demotivational posters

I don't know who leaves me more speechless, the ignorant  Gary or the ridiculous Concerned Citizen.