We’re feeling beaten again. Beaten and a bit broken. Not by life, not by tragedy or trauma but by three small people who seem to yield so much power over us that we’re literally on our knees.
Can I rant for a minute or two? Do you mind if I vent?
I’ve got it wrong somewhere along the way. You see, I always wanted my kids to really like me. Always wanted them to think that I was the loveliest, softest, kindest mummy in the world. To feel lucky every day that I was theirs and no one else’s.
What a load of old bollocks!
I watched a short video this morning. Dawn French talking about lessons that life had taught her. One of which was how she had absolutely no desire to be her daughter’s friend.
“It’s Not My Job,” she said.
It’s. Not. My. Job.
I kind of knew that. It’s been said to me in different ways over the years but this morning, as I angrily devoured a Twirl bar for breakfast and tried to regulate my erratic breathing that message finally hit home.
Enough of this softly, softly, fucked up guilty approach. Enough of feeling somehow responsible for what is nothing more than blatant rudeness and defiance.
Enough of being scared of putting real boundaries in place, saying no and issuing consequences that actually have some affect.
Enough of dreading bedtimes, dreading wet Sundays and dreading the school holidays. Yep, I dread them.
My name’s Emma and I dread long periods of time with my kids.
Are you still there? Have you unfollowed? Do you still like me? You see, I care too much what everyone thinks. What my teenager and three eight year old’s think when, actually, all they’re thinking about is how they can get exactly what they want from every single moment of every single day.
Which is normal and I get it. But, god help us, somewhere along the way some kind of empathy has to kick in. Will it? It will, won’t it? Please tell me it will.
(Dave actually googled Boot Camp for Wayward Kids this morning. They thought he was joking. He isn’t. I’m tearing my nit infested hair out and he’s on the brink of buying a camper can and heading straight to the Amalfi coast never to return. )
PS: You know I love them. I really, really do. But Jeez, things have got to change.