support

I am a Powerful Force

I am a mom.

I may not make $80,000 a year a some stuffy corporate job anymore, but my value is now measured in my daughter’s love, not dollars.

I may not have some fancy degree from some overpriced university, but there are still things I know and things that I can do better.

I have been known to school doctors in their craft, heal hurts with the kiss of my lips, and convince a screaming toddler that they really do want to go to bed.  I am a powerful force.

Do not dismiss my worth.

I am a mother 24/7.  I assure you I’m good at what I do and I know how to do it well.  I’ve had two years of practice, day and night, to perfect and hone my skills.

You may not understand why I do what I do when I do it, but I there is always a method behind my madness.  And yes, I may get defensive when you question my methods.  Because although it may not always seem like it, I do know what I’m doing.

You do not walk in my shoes, so please do not assume you know how they fit, how they feel.

I listen to your corporate tales of woe.  To you tell the tales of what technical malady had befallen your world today.  I listen and I care.  I ask the same in return.

Do not then throw that in my face and accuse me of playing the ‘poor princess’ card.  Because I’m not.

I don’t want your pity.  I have no use for your pathos.

I just want your support.

Because although I am mighty, although I am strong, some days I’m still a mom who needs a little help.

It Takes A Village

*Warning:  I started this post intending to write about our planned summer camping trip with my parents.  It instead turned into a parental rant.  Don’t bother reading if you’re not in the mood to deal with whiny, poor me, BS*

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My parents drive me batty.  I mean in an up-the-wall completely insane sort of way.  I have a complete love-hate relationship with them.

On one hand they’re awesome parents.  When I was pregnant, my dad and his friend completely framed and drywalled our basement for us, so we could move Bil’s office downstairs and make room for the new baby.  Then when we were spending all day, every day at the hospital with Vista when she was first born, my parents came over to the house and painted the entire basement for us.  I know, pretty sweet deal.  They also take Vista for a few hours every month or so, so Bil and I can get a break and are starting to talk about maybe trying to taking her overnight this summer.

Then on the other hand, some days I could write them off completely.  When I was pregnant with V and going through complication after complication (more than once we thought I was miscarrying there was so much blood.  I know, TMI, sorry), rather than stepping in and offering support, my parents basically disappeared.  After having it out with my mom about 6 months ago, I found out why.  She told me they didn’t want to get attached to the baby if we were only going to lose it.  WTF?!?  I mean, the time when I need support the most, all you can think about it your feelings?

It took them a long time to bond with Vista for this reason.  And still, even though they only live an hour away, she only sees them once or twice a month.  And that’s usually only because we make the effort to drive in and bring her over to see them.  This… this makes me very sad.

My parents have also had a veil of denial over them about all of Vista’s issues.  Despite my mom watching V have a seizure right in front of her she said “Well maybe it wasn’t a seizure.  Maybe she just didn’t want to play anymore”.  *insert banging of the head here*

They were convinced for the longest time that V had no delays, that we were expecting too much from her.  And even though we told them repeatedly that we were at our wits end and needed help and support, we got none.  When we had a screaming, colicky baby who would cry non-stop around the clock for weeks on end, no one showed up to say ‘Go take a walk for an hour and rest your ears’.  We were left to do this alone.

When my brother had his perfectly healthy baby a year later, they were all over that one.  They’re always babysitting my nephew, they’ve taken him overnight several times, they make an effort to go over and visit.  Yeah, I’m bitter.  But that’s a long brewing bitterness that’s a whole other story having to do with sibling rivalry, adoption, and my need to get a life and get over the pettiness.

Then the magical MRI results appeared.  To say my parents were shocked was an understatement (even though we had told them we knew there was something wrong with her brain since she was 6months old.  Yeah, we’ve known that long).  Now all of the sudden they’re offering to take her more often and making this big show of support.

And while part of me really appreciates it, part of me really really resents that it took a friggin’ brain scan to make my parents step up to the bat.  And part of me wants to tell them to shove off, because it’s too little, too late.  Except that we really do need the help.  But then again, we’ve done it for two years on our own, what’s another two, or four, or ten?

Sorry, I had originally sat down to write about our summer camping trip and I’m not quite sure why the post detoured into this parental rant.  Maybe I just need to put this out there so I can get this out there and try to get over some of the anger and resentment I have.  I really want them to be part of V’s life because when they are there, they’re awesome and V absolutely loves them.  But there’s a wall that’s long and tall between us and I’m just not sure how to start taking it down.

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