which is dangerous...I know, I know. What with the massive expression of opinion yesterday and all, it occurred to me that I may just have come across as an unfeeling, emotionally stunted bitch. Well, one word in that description is right, I admit. I make no quibbles about being a bitch...since it is a label that is often applied to someone like me. A woman who really isn't afraid to express her opinions (no matter how unliked they are). I am at least fourth generation bitch.
I also discovered something else about me...I probably have something missing from my genetic makeup. I actually discovered this while the oldest screamer was away in KY for a week. You remember me posting that I missed him, for a couple of days? Yeah, that's where the wiring is funky. After the first couple of days...I didn't miss him anymore. I actually cringed at the thought of him coming back home. See...told you...genetic mistake. Let me elaborate further. The littlest screamer took off with his Mawmaw for a day or two, leaving me all alone in a nice quiet house...I loved it! I discovered then that though I would miss them for a while, I could get along quite nicely without them. Now this doesn't go to say that I don't want them or love them...or that I wouldn't be devastated should something happen to them. It does go to say that for even a short time, I can and do get by without someone underfoot (kids, husband, family in general) fairly well. This may not come as a shock to some, but I've never been apart from either screamer for longer than a couple of days (the oldest at least, the youngest only ever stayed away overnight and was home bright and early the next morning) and it was a bit of a shock to my system...that quiet and me time after five LONG years.
I didn't like my peace being disturbed by homecomings, but I dealt with it. I even long for a day that is similar to those precious few I just experienced. Life without intruders. Sad that I think of them that way, especially since I'm not a particularly anti-social person.
I think I am genetically screwed in the mothering department. I love them, I enjoy them...but even now I am ready for them to be out of my space. They are five and three, still a lot of years of teaching, nurturing and mothering ahead of me that I don't really relish. I expect you to be shocked/appalled/amused...my sister was when I told her. I think of myself lately as a sort of wet-nurse...here temporarily to rear these creatures to the point that they are no longer dependent then off to the next adventure.
I don't dislike them or begrudge their existence, after all...I did the crime have to do the time, right? I knew what I was getting into when I chose to have children, but I also knew when to stop. I don't hate them, I love them something fierce. I have the mama bear thing, the protective instincts et al. I just have little patience for the encroachment on my personal space (words that do NOT exist with little people). I'm weird...I know. I am my grandmother. I kinda like that.
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