I can clearly see how, in a state of emotional turmoil, my decision-making skills were hijacked by the need for a distraction.
Like making the choice to go camping. FOR A 3 DAY WEEKEND.
I have only recently begun to contemplate what this really means.
3 days of hearing my children bitch and complain that they are bored. 3 days of not being able to send them away because I am sick of hearing them bitch and complain. 3 days of not letting them watch tv or use video games. 3 days of ME not being able to watch tv or lay in a real bed. 3 days of no climate control, which could screw me depending on extreme hotness or coldness, both of which will most likely occur. My dogs or children will probably pop my air mattress at some point the first night, leaving me tired, cold and uncomfortable.
I have only camped during one period of my life...when I was 20-23, living in Alaska, and drinking heavily. In fact, I drank heavily every time I went camping. And it was never in a campground, but the wilderness. What happens when you camp in a campground? Do people really come over and say, "Howdy, neighbor!" Do they invite you to come sing camp songs? Am I the type of person who would SING camp songs, or make fun of the campers at the next site over singing them?
I think we all know the answer to that question. I am really only looking forward to the hotdogs.
Yet, sometimes I wish I was a happier, stupid person. That I wouldn't feel uncomfortable leading the crowd in singing, "Happy Birthday" to my kids. That I was more "Mom-ish". That I could get simple enjoyment out of spending quality time with my family, when I would much rather leave them all at home and go to the casino for a day.
Is this type of mom even real? Has any mother in history really "liked" that mom crap, or are some just better at pretending, and then slip out of the room to take a gulp out of their vodka bottle, neatly hidden in a stack of perfectly folded towels? Or how many are popping "Mommy's little helpers", Xanax, Valium or other medication to keep from slitting their wrists in their mundane realities?
Do we all feel guilty for this mom image we have put on a pedestal? Of who we feel we SHOULD be, and how we know we never will?
For the most part, I just don't even bother trying, because I know it will make me miserable, and let's face it...I am miserable enough with life the way it is.
But, what the hell...I am going to give it a go this weekend. If nothing else, I may be able to embarrass my children, which would give me great amusement.