Posts Tagged ‘husband’

Thanks Giving

I forget to feel grateful and I take so much for granted. I’m sure I’m not alone in this. I spend my time wrapped up in whatever I’m doing. I complain and joke around and am remiss in my thanks giving.

Despite anything I’ve said here, I really do love my kids. I’m gaga over them and so, so, so thankful to have them. I’m thankful they are here, healthy, growing and safe. And I’m thankful for the wonderful little people they are.

S holds my heart in her tiny little hands. Her affectionate nature, fetching disposition and just plain old adorableness make it impossible not to fall in love with her. Her constant senseless babbling suggests the chatty little girl she’s about to become. I can’t wait to hear what she has to say! For now I’m happy to imagine what she means with her coos, shrieks and giggles. Even without speaking, she can make her will known. She wants to be up on top of the table, dammit! STOP.TAKING.ME.DOWN! But then she’s easily and happily distracted and toddles off in another direction. She is as different a child from L as can be imagined, so none of this is the same old anything. She’s full of surprises for me. I am so lucky to have her as my daughter.

And L, what a child he is! So full of exuberance, humor, energy, and curiosity – he certainly keeps me on my toes. No one can make me laugh like he can. And no one can drive me as crazy either. L pushes against all of my edges, like he’s kneading dough. And slowly, those edges expand, and then he pushes on the new ones. I’m learning some hard-won lessons and am becoming a better mother and person because of him. What’s hard to capture about L in my posts is his kind-heartedness. He is an incredibly loving, affectionate and caring person. This is the part of him that I admire most. I’m amazed that this small boy, who came from me and has been raised by me, can have all this sweetness in ways that I don’t have, that he can teach me a thing or two about empathy. I will certainly be a better person by having known L in my lifetime.

In addition to my wonderful children, I am also thankful for my husband T. He is my best friend and a great partner for me. Where I have snarkiness, he has kindness. Where I have selfishness, he has generosity. And where I have a grumpy, tired mood, he has his wacky and hilarious sense of humor and I can’t help but laugh. And he’s cute. How lucky am I?

As if all this wasn’t enough, I also have family nearby, great and supportive friends, an exceedingly dedicated and helpful mom, a mother-in-law on the other side of the world who is always thinking of us and is game enough to travel here, and on and on and on. I seem to have it all. So, thank you, Universe. I’m very blessed and grateful for all that I have.

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She’s seen it all now. All my effort to pretend I had a nice family for nothing. Nana witnessed me drag a screaming L to the car this morning, pin him in his carseat and forcibly strap him down as he thrashed, cried, shrieked, kicked, hit and tried to bite me. She then saw me turn to my husband, her son, and yell at him about something or other. Then, after storming back inside to retrieve my crying baby in her carseat, I proceeded to yell at both T and Nana about how helpful they were being standing there watching all of this.

As I drove away, after my initial mean thoughts about how useless they were and how I had to do everything, I thought about what Nana must be thinking. How much I’ve changed since she first met me 10 years ago as a carefree, adventuring young 20-something traveling with my boyfriend, who I obviously adored, and did not berate or yell at. What changed me into this control-freak-bitch?

I think life would be so much easier if I could just clone myself a few times over. That way, all the errands would be run right, the dishwasher would be loaded correctly, the laundry folded, the kids put to bed in a timely, orderly fashion etc. Everything would be done right. Instead, I have to deal with these other people helping me, and doing things all wrong.

When it’s just T, things generally run pretty smoothly. I don’t really mind when I find another pair of PJs under the PJs I just took off the baby. I think it’s weird, but I don’t care. (This happened 2 days ago. After all this time having kids, WTF is he thinking? Wasn’t it hard to squeeze already footed-feet into the second pair of footie PJs?) We have a system for dividing the labor so we don’t really step on eachother’s toes too much. I load the dishwasher; he unloads. I do all the laundry, but he carries the heavy basket upstairs. He changes all lightbulbs; I clean the bathrooms. All in all, things work and we live in peace.

Adding another adult in the house has me beside myself. I don’t have as much control over everything as I like. This lack of control makes me feel uncomfortable. I know that having everything done my way is not a life or death situation. I even know that other people *could* do things better than I do them. (Nevermind, I don’t believe that for a second.) Why do I need everything done my way so badly? Why can’t I just relinquish some of this control?

I know it would make me happier if I just didn’t care. I’d be happier if I didn’t care that L wasn’t dressed before coming downstairs this morning, making getting him dressed a 1/2 hour ordeal involving tears and yelling and even a time out, rather than a 3 minute nothing if done first thing in his room. And why does it bother me so much that Nana wants to handwash everything instead of just putting it all in the dishwasher? She’s the one slaving over the sink, why does it drive me crazy? I’ll tell you why: because I am a control-freak-bitch.

I am sure I’m not the only one. Motherhood changes some of us into these people we sometimes don’t like. It’s insult added to injury. Not only do we not look like our younger selves, but our personalities are worse as well. It’s another one of those terrible stereotypes about women and wives. It’s the harpy wife who gives chores, nags, and isn’t pleased by the job done. I don’t want to be that person. I don’t want poor T to have to live with that person! But, am I turning into her? What kind of message does that send my kids about what a woman’s job is, and a man’s worth?

Isn’t it typical that even when I’m trying so hard to make everything go right for my kids, I’m still unhappy that I’m not doing a good enough job, because just by virtue of trying I’m teaching my kids something bad? Ugh, can’t it ever just be easy? Forget saving for college, I need to save up for my kids’ therapy.

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