Tuesday, May 3, 2011
When I was a little girl, I dreamed of getting married to my Prince Charming, and having two children--one boy and one girl, of course--and living, like Cinderella, happily ever after. At this point in the story, tires screech to a halt, horns honk and the sound of crashing can be heard. What a crock of bull! I am married and do have children, but for some reason God felt it necessary to loan me not one, but three children. But here's the funny part, they are all girls! No boys allowed, apparently. Well, except for the dog, and I suppose a few of the fish must be male. My oldest daughter (#1) is sixteen. I believe she wants me to check in to an insane asylum because she is constantly testing my sanity. The latest stunt, as my mother would call it, has left my heart aching and my mothering skills questioned. She also makes me question my choice to have more than one child. I don't question that choice for too long, because I would never want to have missed out on the joys of being a mommy. It is tough at times, but seeing their smiling faces, hearing their intoxicating laughter, and receiving their hugs and kisses is something I would never trade. As for #1, she thinks 'mom' is another word for Satan. She tells me quite often she hates me, calls me names, tells me that I am unfair and overreacting. Possibly. But as I pointed out to her, it is my job as a mother to protect my children, and I will, no matter what. Even if it means they are forever angry at me.