(WARNING: One huge ranting whine ahead)
This morning began like pretty much every morning has for the past couple of weeks. Pleading with my children to get up for school. They are normal kids... they whine and complain about being tired when I rouse them.
My youngest usually whines about waking up. Then about the clothes she has to wear. I've become more patient over the years certainly, but this week especially my patience has been worn thin all too quickly. I feel it- every time I'm about to travel... and know I'm going to be 30,000 feet in the air... it happens. I can't sleep. I fidget. I check my Will.
So this morning as I said was like the rest. Samantha started to cry about her selection of clothes. She doesn't like the way jeans "feel", so she refuses to wear them... even though it's all she has. We go back and forth, until I lose it and stomp off JUST like a 5 year old myself.
My husband tells me to relax and calm down, which just incenses me more. Sam is still crying about not wanting to go to school. She's tired. I'm thinking, oh yes she IS going to school.. I've got shit to do today. We leave for MA Sunday, I've got to get the rest of the clothes in order to pack, finish the last bit of Christmas shopping, blah blah blah.
She's quiet and a bit happier when we get to school, and I make sure to give her a big hug and tell her to have a good day. I get home, and what do I do? I fall back asleep. I send out some emails. Waste my whole freaking morning. Pffft. I'm such a loser. It's no wonder my business is going in the toilet.
I felt even worse when at 12:30 the school calls me to tell me that Sam needs to come home, she is hot, has slept in a corner of the classroom all morning, and has the shakes. I hung up the phone, and started bawling as I got my keys and headed out the door.
Seriously, did the universe intentionally make someone who really shouldn't be a mother a mother? Is it some cruel joke? I'm so selfish- I'd rather worry about myself than whether my child might not be feeling well. Even though she's been fighting this cold for almost a month now. You would think I'd be a little more compassionate and in tune to this.
I pick her up and she bursts into tears at seeing me. "Mommy," she croaks, " I feel so bad."
Turns out she has a 102 fever and her throat still hurts. Last week the doc said it wasn't strep when I took her in. So now she's lying on the sofa, resting.
My children deserve someone better to take care of them. I've never been worthy of the title "Mom".