Jerod’s confirmation essay is 14 days overdue. He filled out a form stating what his ‘right of confirmation’ would be. An essay. Though it was clearly stated on the form, I failed to note the due date. Of course, it wouldn’t take a rocket surgeon to figure out it must be coming due soon, since actual confirmation is at the end of the month. By the time I finally got around to figuring out when it was supposed to be turned in, it was a week and a half late. Now it’s two weeks late and I’ve had to reschedule his confirmation interview because it wasn’t done. I feel responsible.
Because really, even though he’s fully capable of noting a due date, he didn’t; which is surely a result of my maternal ineptitude.
Last Saturday night I completely lost my temper with him over what was likely a misunderstanding on both our parts because we were trying to communicate via text. I’d asked him to call me so we could figure supper out, he’d responded with ‘why,’ which seemed snarky to me. It’s probably my fault because I was tired, cold, and frustrated after watching two piece of shit soccer games; and was in the midst of a two hour drive home in the rain. And, let’s face it, good moms don’t get tired or frustrated or say piece of shit soccer games or misread the tone of a text, right?
Because I was driving and not texting, we then had some missed connections. The shorter but still not short version of this story is I got home without food from him. He was pissed I hadn’t brought food, I was pissed he didn’t call when I asked. And, like a good, spineless, enabling, too quickly triggered mother; I ventured back out into the pouring rain to get the kid his damn mcnuggets. Even though I was completely exhausted and just wanted to put my sorry self to bed. This would be a really swell time for you to come at me with the ‘I can’t believe you feed your kids that poison’ line, because I’m really not feeling quite shitty enough about myself.
I’m typing this literary masterpiece from a Towneplace Suites hotel room because I’m visiting my grandparents, which is long overdue. It’s been almost three years since I’ve seen them, because I am the worst person you know. The trip is necessary, not only because it’s overdue, but also because my grandma is terminally ill.
This trip means I’ll miss the first half of Elise’s 13th birthday. Essentially, I’ll be late to the party. Even though it’s not really a party, and even though I could have been home to wake her up on the special day had I not delayed my departure until Tuesday to facilitate an early birthday present- taking her and two friends to see Imagine Dragons. She’s disappointed neither parent is going to be home when she wakes up on her birthday. The shorter but still not short version of this story is she sent me a series of texts so unbelievably mean and selfish that I damn near threw up my hands and decided not to come visit my grandma. See above: spineless, enabling, ineptitude
There are a handful of reasons I felt like I needed to get this trip in this particular week. All of them point back to me being a terrible person, and many of them relate to it being so long overdue. And if I hadn’t been overdue in realizing I needed to take Chris up on his offer to abort his scheduled nine day business trip, he’d be on the continent to cover parental birthday duties and I could have foregone the teenage drama surrounding me coming to see my dying grandma. Instead of taking him up on that offer, I pulled on my martyr pants, which are really, really ugly and make my ass look huge; and told him to go ahead and go– I could manage the dying grandma and state soccer tournament and hormonal teenagers and concert and confirmation essay and 13th birthday on my own. Because I’m an idiot and incapable of knowing when I need to say, “Hell no, do not go on this business trip right now, because I AM FUCKING DROWNING HERE.” And really, why did I tell him it would be fine to be gone on her birthday/MEA school break in the first place? The original plan had been for no business travel in October. He asked to me cave on that and I said fine, because I am spineless.
So, I hereby give you the antidote to all the perfect women, families, children, lives you see on social media. Me. Flawed, broken, spineless, enabling, inept, idiotic, at fault, quickly triggered, and overdue (in no particular order). I feel I have gotten absolutely nothing right in the past week and a half. And yet, I pledge to keep swimming and telling it like it is. Sorry not sorry. It is what it is. And all that other bullshit.