In the aftermath of Buckaroo being asked to do something. Not once, not twice, not three, but four times. I’d had enough. I took his “precious” phone away. “I hate you, why do you always have to ruin my life!?” he screams at me. “I wish you weren’t my mom!” And that is only a glimpse of what being a mother is like for me tonight. The words cut ever so deeply. I know he is upset, I know he doesn’t mean it. I know things could be so much worse. But it hurts. My heavens it f-ing hurts. He’s crying in his room, me in mine. But he’s not getting his phone back. Not tonight anyways.
I’ve survived raising one teenager. Princess was easy. Or maybe it’s a bit like childbirth, you forget how much it really f-ing hurts? Nevertheless, these are the moments when I question if I am doing it right. If I could be doing more. If there is a better way. These are the moments my insecurity of being a “good mother” takes over. These are the moments when all I want to do is go for a run. Then the tears will stop. The rush will come. The pain and self-doubt will feel less overwhelming. I will feel less insecure, and more like me. But it’s dark outside, my gym is closed; I can’t go for a run. And I am out of wine. So I will just have to ride it through, try to quiet my mind enough to find sleep. Until morning, when I can run about it.
Until next time, always be true to yourself and think like a boss.