I thought, well maybe I could write about being a mom to a teenager. After all, I do have one of those living in my basement at the moment. But, since he rarely talks to me, he doesn’t give me enough material to write a daily blog about his life. No cash there.
Is there a day after Friday that I am not aware of? Is there an extra 24-hours in a week that is hidden away from moms like me as other parents watch and laugh at our poor ability to juggle careers, school, homework, dinner, practices, games and meets?
While Sarah’s dad is forever watching his family from Heaven, the Grafton mom has been given a second chance at life – that alone is the best Mother’s Day gift of them all.
Then “GROOVY DAY” comes along. Damnit. Just because I was BORN in the 1970s doesn’t mean I own shit from that decade.
As moms, or parents, we often put our children’s needs above all else. And we look worse for the wear for it.
...I cannot go through their stuff when they are HOME because they will go bat-shit crazy...
Dark circles form under our like dirty little pillows. And they never go away and we always look tired. No amount of concealer, makeup or sleep will make them disappear. They are our permanent tattoos signaling our demise into parenthood. It sucks.