Out With Expectation

This morning I was sitting in my chair in my little corner of my office, journaling. Sometimes I just randomly write down my thoughts and other times I puzzle through things that are bothering me. Today, it was the latter. I was trying to figure out why I’d been so frustrated and angry and disappointed and upset lately (yes, I know, I sound like I’ve just been a ton o’ fun, well, here’s a shocker: I haven’t). This morning I was going through all the things that I’d been promised, assured of, or even hoped for, that I knew were never going to happen. Yes, I was wallowing in self-pity, but I was upset. No, disappointed, because I’d gotten my hopes up for things that I knew just weren’t going to happen. Things that I’d now either have to figure out how to do myself (in some cases, a long shot but not impossible) or just give up on entirely. So then, I asked myself. If these were things that I cannot fix or change or build or adjust, if these things I wanted were outside my power to bring to fruition, did I want to sit here and let it make me miserable or did I want to figure out a way to move on from it. I was putting all my eggs in someone else’s basket waiting for them to do it for me instead of seeing what was […]

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Everyone Has a Mountain

My son came home from his karate class the other day and I asked him how it was. His response was a grumbly, “It was hard.” To which I replied, “And we all know you don’t like to do anything hard.” He looked at me, a little stunned by my bitchiness and I replied, “Well, you were practicing your violin today and […]

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Fatherhood vs Motherhood, or, The Hero and the Nothing

I just saw a post on Facebook where someone is making a new page, “Dads Winning at Fatherhood,” (or something like that, it’s probably best that I don’t know the exact wording in case they decide to attack me for hating their wonderful page idea.) and it angers me. The pages was simply pictures of dads playing with their kids, letting their daughter’s paint their nails, having a tea party, reading to their children on the subway, and so forth. Basically, pictures of dads just being dads. Parenting. Doing exactly what is expected of a parent. Things mothers do Every. Single. Day. No, I’m not asking for gratification. I’m not asking for a “Mom’s Winning at Fatherhood” page on Facebook, hell, I feel like I lose a lot more than I win. But why, when a father steps up and parent’s his child, as they should considering it is their kid too, is it a huge cause for celebration and when a mom does the same thing, it is overlooked? I am so sick and tired of the double standard between mothers and fathers. For instance: My husband started a company, a business (not by himself, if anyone thinks I’m trying to give him all the credit, I’m not) and there was absolutely no question that he would do it. He wanted something more out of his career and it was a no-brainer. Go for it, take a chance in life! Yay! […]

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The Crushing Pain of Conforming, aka, The Terrible Task of Parenting a Savage

Okay, this is one of those blogs, that inevitable one where a parent must write about their child. This is that one, I think. I’m never really sure until I get to the end. This morning I was packing my son’s backpack and found his homework sheet that he’d (ahem, finally!) remembered to bring home from school. At first I got ready to get angry at him because I thought he’d forgotten again, that this was last week’s homework sheet and he’d forgotten to bring home the current one for the third time. Why? Because it was completed. Every blank space was filled in. Every math question answered. He had nothing to do but review. Whaaaaaaaaaat?!?! This is not normal for my son. Homework is a struggle. School is a struggle. Sitting down for five goddamn minutes and paying attention to anything is a struggle. Except Lego and Video Games. He’s got that mastered to an art of hours-long mind-numbing focus. Which is why I don’t think he’s ADHD. And why he’s not medicated. But also why some days I really wish he was if only to make the struggle that is school a little easier. Why must school just be something to survive? To get through? Why must I dread going to pick up my son and facing the teacher to hear of the daily transgressions and messes he has accomplished while let loose among 29 other 7-year-olds who are […]

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