permanently peachy. not (terrible title)

(warning: some of these stories are depressing)

There are days when I think that I would enjoy being a mother more if I saw less of my son. I realise how terrible that sounds as I read it back to myself. But it’s how I feel. There I days I think, if I went to work and could get away from it all for so many hours a day when I came home in the evening I will be more patient and loving with my son. Then there are days when I think, this is it. he is only ever going to be at this cute, cuddly, annoying, irritating and interesting stage of his life once. And if I went to work I would miss it all. And that I should embrace and enjoy staying at home with him. And then he throws a plate of sambar rice on the floor and I’m back browsing job search and boarding school sites. But I realise I’m lucky in that I have the luxury of choosing what I wish to do. That if tomorrow I wanted to return to full time work I would have the support of my husband in making that work. But a lot of people don’t have that choice. Not every one’s jobs will cover child care costs. And some people can’t afford to not work. Read these two stories at the Motherlode blog and you’ll see what I’m talking about. Regarding the first story I do have some questions/thoughts about the situation, but the bottom line is that that shouldn’t have to happen to any child.

Also on the motherlode blog (which I love reading) is the story of Anita Tedaldi who have away her adopted son. Now I’m torn between feeling terribly sorry for this woman, her adopted son, her other children (how did she explain to them that their brother was no longer going to live with them) and also a bit puzzled as to why she would want to adopt a child when she had five of her own kids and an army husband away on a tour of duty. Noble and wonderful as her intentions may have been five kids is a handful in itself,why would you want one more?

I don’t know if any of this post makes sense or even what it is I want to say. It’s hard when to think straight when a 16 month old is biting your elbow and drawing on a peach with a permanent marker. Oh well.

(Apologies in advance for typos etc. Please don’t point them out to me. I know they are there.)

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5 thoughts on “permanently peachy. not (terrible title)

  1. I don’t know – it sounds like there were behavioral issues. The child didn’t get any diagnosis by pediatric psychiatrists. I’m saying this without judgement because my child has gone through intensive testing, physical therapy this year. So maybe she was overwhelmed with all this – what with five other girls to take care of..

  2. chah… you hobbled me with that last remark – dont point out typos, indeed. Why would you take away from me one of my simple pleasures, eh? 🙂

    PS. This Anita woman… FIVE kids? FIVE? Ye gods…

  3. Oh,am in the same boat as you are. K is the Terrible Twos phase and I’m constantly oscillating between joy and absolute fatigue (mental and physical).I simply subscribed to a Job search website .Seeing those mails in my inbox everyday (never mind that they end up in the trashbin) makes me feel better -thinking that there is hope -even if its four, five, six years down the line!

  4. Hey there,
    Normally I just lurk around on your site and enjoy the glimpses I get into your life. Especially since some of them are so similar to mine. I’m a stay-at-home-mom with a 15 month old, just turned 30 and have enough existential angst for a couple of generations of teenage girls! 🙂
    I think the pulling in two directions that you describe int his post is just the burden of the modern woman. We have so many choices. Sometimes I think it would’ve been better to be born in a society where roles were far more rigid, but rationally I know I would have chafed at that as well.
    Anyway, Like your post, I’ve lost the thread of what I wanted to say somewhere along the way, but I guess I just wanted you to know that you aren’t alone 🙂 Tons of us in the same boat. Oh and I hope he didn’t eat the peach he was marking with permanent marker! 😀
    Cheers,
    Nandita

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