Back here, are we?
I can't post on Facebook, not even enigmatically, not even to cough this nasty feeling out of my chest. Every time I post anything on Facebook my mother-in-law's cell phone dings because evidently she has alerts set for certain people and I'm one of the lucky ones. Can't blame her; I allowed her to infiltrate a boundary. Boundaries, psh.
I'm not good at this motherhood thing. I just spent fifteen minutes standing by the borrowed crib upstairs (we're visiting the in-laws, did I mention?) crying right along with Katherine. I can't DO anything with her. I should be able to DO something. Not all the time, not every time, I'm not that naive, but sometimes, when she's upset and none of the usual fixes are working I should be able to pull some mothering magic out of my bag of tricks and make her better.
I can't.
Is that because I never learned? Because when there was something wrong with me my own mother blamed ME, which is on the other end of the "Wrong" spectrum from what I'm doing? Or is it just because I'm selfish and small? Because I'm tired and her inconsolability combined with Mini's pitiful sickness and just being here in this place where I've always come apart makes me want to focus on nothing but the landing of our plane back home?
Oh, and even that ... my mom isn't sure she's going to be able to pick us up from the airport because she wants to stir up drama and pull my anxiety strings like she's done forever and ever. So I hid a key in my car just in case someone has to pick us up if she flakes on us and then I realized I have no one to call to pick us up from the airport if she flakes on us. How sad is that?
I'm tired. My eyes are burning. I'm scared. I want to go home.
I want my mama.
I'm not good at this motherhood thing. I just spent fifteen minutes standing by the borrowed crib upstairs (we're visiting the in-laws, did I mention?) crying right along with Katherine. I can't DO anything with her. I should be able to DO something. Not all the time, not every time, I'm not that naive, but sometimes, when she's upset and none of the usual fixes are working I should be able to pull some mothering magic out of my bag of tricks and make her better.
I can't.
Is that because I never learned? Because when there was something wrong with me my own mother blamed ME, which is on the other end of the "Wrong" spectrum from what I'm doing? Or is it just because I'm selfish and small? Because I'm tired and her inconsolability combined with Mini's pitiful sickness and just being here in this place where I've always come apart makes me want to focus on nothing but the landing of our plane back home?
Oh, and even that ... my mom isn't sure she's going to be able to pick us up from the airport because she wants to stir up drama and pull my anxiety strings like she's done forever and ever. So I hid a key in my car just in case someone has to pick us up if she flakes on us and then I realized I have no one to call to pick us up from the airport if she flakes on us. How sad is that?
I'm tired. My eyes are burning. I'm scared. I want to go home.
I want my mama.