I’m sitting here on a Wednesday night waiting for Grace’s six-a-side soccer to be over and done with. It’s just started raining, I don’t know where Albi is (and frankly don’t care), I haven’t, and won’t even bother watching the games and am thinking of doing my best at avoiding conversation with anyone in general. I stopped at the bottle-o on the way here in the hope I’d find something to alter my mood. It did, but not enough. I’m over it. I can’t be fucked. Everything is pissing me off.
It’s one of those days.
I’m sick of being a (the) parent, the cook, the cleaner, the taxi driver, the good cop and the bad cop. I’m sick of laundry, vaccuming and bloody school lunches that never get eaten. The kids are shitting me to tears with every word and action. They don’t listen, don’t help and don’t seem to give a shit about me or each other. Even the dog seems to have a fuck-you attitude towards me at the moment.
Christmas is coming, as is the end of school, and I am not looking forward to either. More stress, more organising, more effort, more money to spend, more headaches and far less, if any, time for me (if that’s possible). The only thing that is good about school holidays and Christmas is the occasional sleep in, no schedule and seeing the kids joy at accruing yet more material possessions on Christmas morning.
I’m pissed off that I’ve been left to do this on my own. I’m angry that this is how it turned out. This is not what I signed up for. If I had have known that it would be this hard emotionally and mentally, I would never have bought into it in the first place.
Yes I know that this feeling will pass. I am not looking for pity, advice, or even a “you got this”. I promised to share the shit as well as the good and this is, well, some of the shit that is solo parenting.
I know this is normal in any family. I know that this is just a part of the joy that is parenting. But I also know that not enough people, especially us blokes, talk about this fucked up side to raising children. Well I will 🙂
Not that we’d change it for all the fish in the sea, but let’s be seriously honest here – kids, indeed life, is 95% fucking hard work and 5% bliss. It’s pure luck, I believe, that the 5% good stuff is like that third glass of wine – somehow, miraculously, the other 95% seems not as bad as you remember at the time.
So as I move rapidly through my 3rd glass of quite a nice cab/merlot cleanskin I picked up on the way home, I hope you all have a little giggle at this oh-so-familiar situation. It is not my intention to invoke sorrow or pity, but merely to highlight the war-like struggle I know we all deal with on a worryingly regular basis.
Ha! Just proof read this. Isn’t it amazing how quickly things can go from “I’ll murder the next person that looks at me sideways” to “ah well, tomorrow’s another day”
Pffft… Glug, glug.