Yeah, this side of things tends to get left out of my blog (and other Moms blogs too). It's not that I want to pretend I am a supermom. No, it is partly because I don't want t air my dirty laundry. Another part of it is that I don't want those memories as i read over my past posts, reliving memories. But sometimes, like today I just need to get it out. I have thought about a second blog, not tied to this blog that would serve as a Mommy vent. I think it would be therapeutic, as long as I didn't read over it, reminiscing about the worst part of each day.
and what if I did vent about my kids. You know people would suggest that it would be easier to just send them to school. they used to go to school and I can tell you this: it is not easier. Really it is worse because those bad moments are all crammed, into the few hours (or less) you have with them.
Sometimes the kids are disrespectful, generally if I am busy with something else. My biggest problem right now is 12year old SW. now I generally am irritated by 12 yr olds. Was long before I ever had kids of this age. I find that 12 - 14 period hard to deal with. I do not like the attitude, the melt downs or the attempt to be cool. I do not know if this is something all 12-14 yr olds do or if part of it is an attitude developed in PS. And lets face it, SW brought much of the PS baggage with him. And the worst of it is when it seeps into the other kids. He acts out and they follow suit. He rolls his eyes, uses negative body posture, and comments on how stupid it all is. Ko-Ko, looking at him and giggling at him then sometimes joins his lament. I could just scream.
So hear I am, on the computer, venting it out. i do feel better and they are now sitting in the living room reciting the poem "In Flanders Fields". Hopefully I will be back later today posting them reciting this poem, just to show we did manage to get over the hump that nearly made me cry, maybe finally created a gray hair on my head. So I am off in hopes of a beautiful afternoon. The kind us HS Moms love to share. The ones where we almost feel like this: