this may sound like the musings of an alcoholic. may be it is. what is an alcoholic?
just been told i am a lunatic by my significant other because i want him not to read what i am writing. (he reads with a look of strain and questions)
i don't think he understands the fury that i so frequently feel.
simple domestic fury
like never ending tidying and baby caring and child pacifying and teenager concerning and washing up and laundrying and wiping tables and mopping and hoovering and tidying and bath cleaning and toilet cleaning and stairs hoovering and putting away and pacifying and forgetting ones self and just on and on and on and round and round. even writing it i feel like a scondrel of a nag but hey here's my chance, a blank sheet of nothingness going nowhere but the ether. nag nag away.
it is hateful on days when it seems the cup can get no fuller. but it can. there is always more room for more pacifying, concerning, tidying, oh, cooking, baby caring, parking -as in going to parks- parking as in endless driving here there and everywhere, and patience endless patience that of course implodes and drowns itself in a not big enough glass of wine .
yes at times motherhood suits me like a sink in the skull, but then i started innocently early at just twenty. a child of nine children. what did i know. other times i am like a fluffy duck to water pacifying away the unruly irrational, demanding and insolent beast that is child.
of course on another day i can only count my blessings as i gaze at my intelligent, sweet children especially when they sleep. but right now, the frustration of mother hood sits upon me like a large cold pile of bricks.
it is probably because i am tired.
cos i do love em.
No comments:
Post a Comment