Am I really a mean, terrible, hurtful, neglectful mother because I refuse to drive Maya to the bus two days per week?
She has been going to school for nine years and two months but somehow still can't manage to get herself ready with enough spare time to make the five minute walk to the bus stop before the bus leaves.
I drive her to the bus three days a week on the days that I work because I have to go directly past the bus stop to get Henry to daycare. She only has to walk two days but always gets herself into some kind of hysterical tizz about missing the bus because she spent twenty minutes trying to decide which earrings to wear with her school uniform. When I refuse to get in the car to drive her she slams the door behind her while muttering out loud that if she's late or misses the bus it'll be my fault.
It's always my fault. That's what mothers do. They take the blame for EVERYTHING.
10am update:
Ten minutes after she gets to the bus stop and just as I step out of the shower she calls me to tell me the bus has had a crash further down the road and is on fire and people are everywhere and there's a car stuck under it and it's going to rain and if she waits for the next bus she'll be late for school and get detention!
So I quickly put on some clothes, dress Henry who's been wandering around naked, and get in the car to rush to the bus stop to collect her and get her to school on time. On the way home I stop at the shop to pick up some pain killers and vitamins for all the sick people in the house. When I get home I give Henry vitamins and panadol, he wanders into the lounge room with it and spills it all over the carpet. While I clean that mess he wets his pants all over the carpet because I was too busy cleaning up the panadol to notice that he was busting to go. While I clean up that mess he walks past the cat and accidentally steps on his tail and the cat turns around and scratches him across the legs, he screams. While he's screaming the phone rings. By this stage I'm almost about to fall on the floor and start crying. Because when I'm not feeling 100% there's nobody around to pick up the pieces.
I'm feeling sorry for myself but I have every right to. So there.
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3 comments:
michelle - you paint a wonderful picture of motherhood with a teenage girl :) I can't wait ;)
perhaps we should catch up soon for some good ol' venting.
If you're prepared to use all your psychology skills I'm more than happy to vent all day and night for forty days and forty nights. Then I'll build an ark and float away with only me in it.
It all sounds so familiar. lately, my girls have been trying to get me to let them do all kinds of crap that will never, ever happen. I have to keep asking them if they're new here.
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