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Friday, November 14, 2003

whiny post about kids

You know how I mentioned, in that inverted Smothers-Brothers kind of way, that both my kids love their Daddy best? They fight over who has to sit next to Mommy instead of Daddy at the table. They fight over who has to hold Mommy's hand instead of Daddy's when we're walking through the mall. T tries to put a stop to this; he is by turns diplomatic and stern about it. Honestly, all kidding aside, this whole thing really breaks my heart and makes me feel more than a bit resentful (it feels frighteningly like sixth grade, actually, and kids fighting over who had to sit next to me on the bus) and I really hope it's temporary. Here I am, the one who has put her entire adult life into raising these kids the right way, I stay home with them, I put off going to college for them, I educate them, wipe their noses, cook their meals, bandage their wounds, answer their embarrassing questions, teach them to get along in the world, not to mention love them so much it brings tears to my eyes on a regular basis. And it's not like Daddy doesn't love them just as fiercely as me, and he works really hard so that we all have a place to live and food to eat and all that fun stuff, and he does discipline them and do all that daily-care stuff for them when he's here, and very well, I might add. But because he's gone all day and I'm the one home with them (ironic, isn't it), he is [insert Monty-Pythonish heavenly cloud chords here] DACY THE MAGNIFICENT and I am Just Mommy. Except -- and this is where I was going with all this on this particular morning -- except at 3 a.m. What name comes flying out of C's mouth when she's cold/hot/thirsty/had a bad dream? "MOMMY!" Sometimes three or four times a night, or should I say morning. I suppose I should be grateful that I at least am this important to her, but I'm not, I'm resentful as hell about it, especially at 3 a.m. when nobody is inclined to be rational.


In my sane moments (OK, most of the time), I don't mind this too much. I certainly don't regret being a stay-at-home mom or homeschooling them (yet). I know that they really do love me very much. I still get plenty of hugs and kisses and "surprises" and cuddles. I know that when they're adults they'll look back and appreciate me in that reverence-for-Mom sort of way. I just wish I didn't have to wait quite that long.

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