Max, 10. Rocco, 3. My cool dudes ... my turdburgers.
Having two children is too hard - true story. But what am I going to do about? Keep bumbling forward anyway.
I honestly do things with them and think, "Nobody else would do this." Like the whole world is in on a parenting secret except me. I let Rocco sleep in Max's room sometimes, just so I can get a full nights sleep. I leave strawberry bubble gum in my glovebox to bribe Rocco to get in the car. If they come to me and say they're bored I say .... "Good. Be bored." Why should I be the CEO all the time? (Chief Entertainment Officer.)
To be a parent means you have such power. It's nauseating.
Rocco turns four in May and is hanging for a birthday party. He's never had a birthday party - I've been too far deep in my own issues to give him one. Where DOES undiagnosed and untreated post-traumatic stress go to die? The sound of a newborn baby crying in public makes me clench everything. SHUT IT UP. I ached and yearned for my miracle IVF baby Rocco for so many years. Just as he came he got pipped at the post by my husbands cancer and all bets were off. I will never, ever be clucky again. I used to look at babies and cry from the Want. Now I shy away with a cold heart, wondering why anybody would have babies. Then I feel bad and think, sorry, baby! Nothing personal! Then I wonder what other people think when they see babies. When I catch a new young mother looking at me looking at her baby I want to say no, I am not coveting your baby. Not at ALL.
During the last decade the whole world has sped up to such a point that there is intense pressure on all of us in every aspect of our lives. Especially in parenting. A lot are doing it right, a lot of us are doing it wrong - hell, my back-up is comparing myself to the mothers I was in rehab with. Works a treat - I don't have to read you a bedtime story son. I'm not pushing you in a stroller in the rain to score drugs, that's why. Stop complaining.
Most of us waver and falter and completely screw up and start again. It's a fluid thing. One minute I'm patting myself on the back for all the awesome things and the next I'm crying in my pillow because I yelled at my kids right on bedtime. I was so close! I look at the breadcrumbs on the breadboard and feel the EXACT rage a Colombian dictator must feel. I look at my kids in the rear view mirror with such love and joy I cannot contain.
Stupid awesome life and it's stupid awesome challenges. One day I'll have all my shit together and be the Best Person in the World. Until then I'll be miming it like Marcel.
"Waiting in a stinky public toilet for my three-year old to finish taking a dump so I get the privilege of wiping his arse."