Sometimes I feel like I'm so busy bossing, nagging, directing, pulling, dressing, hair-brushing, lunch-making, refereeing, coaching, bed-making, laundry folding, laundry folding and laundry folding that I am not really spending time with my kids. Sometimes I think I must be a really nasty, boring, bee-otch to be around.
Just the other night, I was sitting with my husband and wondered out loud, "Do you think they even like me?" Such a strange thing to ask, right? I mean, I know they love me. Kids love unconditionally. But, do they like me? Am I fun to be around? Do I make them laugh? Are we "close"? Please tell me I'm not the only crazy person who thinks about this stuff. *crickets*
Here's the thing.
Now that my kids have grown up a bit, the height of my pedestal has shrunk a little shorter. They can see my faults and call me out on them.
Kid: "Mommy - you're ALWAYS on your phone."
Me: F*%k...they notice now.
They've also developed methods of psychological warfare
Kid: "You're not a nice mommy"
Kid 2: "Daddy is my friend, you just tell me what to do all the time."
They're 6 and 4. I know this is just the beginning. I want them to like me.
I want my kids to want to spend time with me. I want them to be excited when they know we have an entire day together. I want them to think I'm the best thing since sliced bread, but I think those times are starting to disappear.
My little girl has been in full-time school for two years now. I can see she's developing that little girl "attitude." You know, where "like" is every second word and the eyes roll up to heaven when I suggest watching something that is "for babies." Her little friends are starting to become her world and I'm afraid I'm becoming a distant moon orbiting around her. I know I need to keep her close, but with out alienating myself in the process.
My son is still a mama's boy. He draws pictures of daddy with Xs through him and says, "I'm your boyfriend now, Mama." Okay, so he has a slight Oedipus complex but does that mean he likes me? He would rather play with his friend down the street, watch his favourite show or jump on the trampoline than hang with me. When he asks me for something and knows my response will be "no," he's assaulting the floor before the word even comes out of my mouth.
I feel like he's angry at me. All. The. Time.
I liked the stage where the sun shone out of my ass and I could do no wrong. Where sitting on my hip all day was their favourite place to be.
Yet, when they wouldn't let me put them down, I bitched about that, too.