Category Archives: The Kid

Dear Daughter

Dear daughter,

 

With Mother’s day coming up and the state of limbo that I currently find myself in, I thought it best to take a moment to express the frailty that is being a mother.

 

So, here goes…

 

I could start this off by stating the various lengths I’ll go to prove my undying love for you but I’m sure by the smothering overprotection and bear hug kiss attacks that you might get that already… BUT I love you with all of my heart. Albeit, all of my tired, weary, empowered, passionate, and sometimes self loathing heart. Us mothers have this nasty habit of going about our days with this ten-pound sack of emotions and I have to say that mine has gained a bit of weight lately. This is not to say that you have anything to do with the sudden weight gain. This is just an acknowledgment of the confused metabolism that our emotional state seems to have. We get up every day and get things done because they have to be. No one has ever told us that they’ll take care of it because… well… we don’t want to hear it and, therefore, choose to ignore it when said. From the moment we hear about you invading our womb and sucking the life from us (literally) we become this beast of “handling it.” Even if someone was to approach us and force us to sit and relax we will still have to micromanage how you allow us to sit and relax. It is no fault of yours but our own because we get up every day and get things done… they have to be.

 

I like to blame my mother for the way I am just simply because she did not prepare me before she left. I was too young to understand a mother/daughter relationship on a more even playing field by the time she was gone. My teenage years were spent with my father, who taught me how to think. He did not understand this ten-pound sack of emotions. He wasn’t meant to. He was about logic and research and all things opinionated and I love him for that. He taught me to analyze and my ten-pound sack taught me to over analyze and my over analytical self’s favorite topic is me. I have to admit that the past few days I have not been very kind to myself. I woke up one day to find that the person I was looking at in the mirror was distasteful. She was angry, frustrated, obsessive, lazy, sloppy, and weak. She blamed everyone else for not seeing her correctly without even seeing herself. This woman I see has come around before and I have dwelled on her in the past giving her full reign of my actions. I have failed many times before under her care but chose to ignore it. This time, however, there is something different. It’s you and ever since her return I find myself pushing past her to get up every day and do what has to be done… for you.

 

I had you when I, myself, was still a child at heart and I have grown with you along the way. I became a mother not at birth but with every passing moment with you. At times it feels as if you are teaching me how to become a mother fit for your love. As you get ready to turn ten years old later this year, you will be the age I was when I lost my mother and I feel that we will learn a great deal from each other in the coming years. I may falter from time to time. I may lose myself every now and then. I may find myself incapable of handling it but I will never stop trying to give you a beautiful life. I have lived. I have laughed and cried and cursed the world around me. I have kicked and screamed and ranted until ears have bled. I have loved and I have lost. I only wish to give you everything you desire, starting with morning snuggles (my favorite part of the day). One day you will come to realize that I am only human and, while I desperately tried to be your Wonder Woman, I have done and will continue to do the best I can.

 

Just like I told you in the quiet of your room while you slept as a baby…

 

It’s you and me kid.

 

Love,

Mom

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I Saw The Face Of Evil Today (and his nose was running)

Let’s face it, kids are cruel. Downright devilish dickheads determined to degrade society by demonizing the very essence of innocence. Or, something like that. True, calling them devilish little dickheads is a bit much but you cannot completely disagree with me. They have no boundaries, a learned trait which is apparently too difficult for some. We are supposed to instill that in our children so that they do not grow up to become adult dickheads. Sometimes, though, these morals do not stick. Whether through a faulty teacher or a faulty student, some kids are just terrorizing little demons. Given, a certain level of disobedience is expected. This is how we all learn the difference between right and wrong, correct? However, once this wall is breached, all the powers of hell come forth. It’s fucking mesmerizing if you watch it from afar but remember to keep your distance. Those little bastards have very sharp fangs.

Now, my daughter is no angel. She has her moments which makes it that much more horrible when you see it in another child. At that moment in time there is a split second when you realize the fact that your child is not the only one and she might not be the worst of them either. They travel in pacts. They plot to take over the world and, all of the sudden, your comfortable little ideals about the world come crashing down around you. Now, hold on a second… I’m getting a bit carried away. (Or am I?)

It starts with something small. Childish, you might even say, but it is how they react to it that really matters. Any other kid would put the rock down, walk away, or even apologize. A little demon person, however? Well, their eyes get very low from pointing their chin in the direction of their birthplace but even the slightest connection from their pupils will plant horrors under your skin. They get very still, their voices calm and quiet, and they curse you with a tilted smile. It’s terrifying if only because you cannot do a damn thing to them. That is where their power lies. What is true evil without being something you cannot vanquish? Pay no attention to the smudges of crayon stuck in their shirt. The eyes will tell you everything.

To make matters worse, we contradict what we tell our kids on how to handle an encounter with such evil. Don’t be a tattletale but tell an adult if someone is doing something wrong. Would you tell on a bully if that was drilled into your head as a child? No! You got beat up throughout your childhood, didn’t you?! What the hell do we expect our kids to do? We tell them that we do not tolerate bullying yet become annoyed when we have a snitch in our midst. Hypocrisy, how unbecoming of you. They should not be afraid to come to us and we should not fear isolating the problem. Corner them, point them out, and shame the hell out of them. Bully needs to become the four letter word, not tattletale.

We, as adults, cannot touch children. Even if that child is being a terrorizing little shit, anything beyond a hug is considered abuse. You know what I say? Grudges hold merit in them. That little boy that tried to throw a rock at my daughter this morning while giving me the evil eye needs to watch his back eleven years from now. An elderly army might do us some good when those dickheads become legal. Yeah, I said it. You know that you have thought about it once or twice. This is a new movement. It shall be dubbed the Elders Against Evil campaign.

You want to get rid of bullying? Start making it okay for the other kids to tell on them. There is a difference between a drama queen/king and a genuine complaint. Do not belittle the last bit of innocence left in this world.


There’s Never A Good Time (But there’s a better time than that)

If there’s one thing I’m really terrible at in life it’s sleeping. It’s not that I don’t want to. I really truly long for my bedtime. It’s a state of peace. The moment when all else fades away and you can finally rest your body and soul. If I had enough time to dream, I would dream about sleeping.

My lovely daughter has discovered this about me… and she uses it… and I’m beginning to believe it’s on purpose. Like a sly manipulative pint sized ninja, she waits until the very last moment to bring up some terrible day-shattering event that just causes her to be completely unable to lay the hell down and go to sleep. She wants to talk about it, snuggle, anything but stay in her own bed and she’s good at sleeping. She must’ve learned that from someone else. Snuck out at night and found a monk in a faraway land to teach her not only to sleep better than a rock but to take away any little pathetic ability that I had to get even the tiniest amount of sleep. She’s devious that one. I’m beginning to think she’s plotting against me.

After much time last night of telling me ridiculous excuses of why she can’t sleep, then lying to me, and severely abusing her tear ducts I finally convinced her to lay down quietly. We will talk about it in the morning. I’m grouchy enough as it is… she’s not helping at one o’clock in the morning. That dream of my bedtime gets more and more fuzzy everyday.

Of course, by the time we wake up and sit down to breakfast I’m already over last night’s events. She came into my room sporting a hairdo that could frighten babies down to their bones this morning. It’s a little hard to remember the state of mind I was in the night before after seeing that. That hairdo is enough punishment, I think. I’m too tired to pick up where we left off. Go figure. Sometimes I think the only reason for parenting troubles is karma getting us back for being little shits to our parents. The cycle of sanity loss.

I’m submitting my dues to the karma gods. If we measure a fulfilled life by the level of sanity left over I think I’ve paid in full. Stamp it, process it, I’m done…

I guess at least until her teenage years… She’s lucky I find her unfailingly adorable. I hope that thought carries me to the big sleep. My final bedtime… I should be good at sleeping by then. I hope.