I am so tired of being the one who gets the blame. I do what you ask and it is still not good enough. I give you what you want and you are still not satisfied.
I understand you’re trying to help however your constant belittling and belligerent yelling didn’t do anything but make me feel stupid. Your language and your tone have done nothing to improve our relationship.
Yes you’re my mother but that doesn’t give you the right to treat me as if I am still 10. You seem to forget that I am an adult with my own children. I can think for myself. I don’t need you running MY life.
Is it bad that I just don’t care?
Why is it when something hours wing in a marriage the families of the spouses blame the other person and their family?
Why do the parents always a ask if the spouse is worth the effort?
Why is it in today’s world it’s easier to leave and move on to the next one than to fix whatever is broken?
Last night you graduated hs and I still have yet to see you stay here so the other brothers and family can spend time with you. One day you will see that the person you believe to be right is totally wrong. So you may not want to bite the hand that feeds you.
Why should I care whether you get to see her or not? She has been with you for 15 years. You got to see her every day. I had to wait till the weekend and even then it was every other weekend from Friday evening to Sunday afternoon. And there was no alternating holidays because you were a jerk.
But you better believe if I was late with a child short payment you were all about getting it and getting it quick.
So now you reap what you have sewn.
Before your first breath to the day I die, every moment of your life is my proudest.
There are days where I would love to tell it like it is without regard to consequences. Why shouldn’t I? Everybody else does. Maybe that’s why. Then I would be like everyone else a and I like to do my own thing. I don’t like being told what to do and how to do and last of all when to do it.
However, at the same time,.I want to expose the secrets I know and watch the fragile foundation crumble. Just once it would be nice to let them have it, no holding back, no filters and no carrying who gets hurt.
That would be nice, but keys face it, that’s not me. That is not who I am. Maybe twenty years ago when I was a kid and didn’t care but now, I have kids and I am their example.
Guess I can always write about it and imagine it.
Why is it I’m the one that’s always wrong?
I’m sitting here watching Moms Night Out and the “moments” that Ali’s character has are some of the same ones that I and many other moms have. This movie is hilarious and down to earth. However, not every night ends with a trip to the police station, even though there are times when it feels like it should.
As I just finished that last sentence my youngest comes out and asks me to wipe his butt. After which he tries to sneak over to the corner and pull a dog with his bottom half on the carpet.