Yet another fantastic morning here. Once again a simple request, asking the kids to wash (run under cold water) their cereal bowls in order to prevent everything hardening on, descends into a full blown row because as always Deborah can't keep her mouth shut and her big fucking nose out.. It's no wonder I find myself constantly shouting; whenever I ask the kids, in a reasonable way, to do or to stop doing something she always jumps in and/or they immediately lapse into default excuse mode (witness Nat this AM as a perfect example - I hadn't even finished what I was trying to say). They then, of course, feel totally justified in taking absolutely no notice of anything I've said and free to keep behaving as I've asked them not to.
I really don't know if I can continue to live like this. Is it any wonder I smoke and drink too much and can't find the motivation to stop. Why the fuck should I bother; obviously the sooner I'm dead the happier everyone will be. On the Up-Side at least I'll be spared the sight of the kids repeating our failures, in a much, much nastier world, simply because Deb doesn't want to be as strict on them as she obviously feels her mother was on her. In other words all their multiple talents will be pissed away and wasted and their lives will amount to nothing just so she doesn't have to feel guilty about instilling and enforcing a sense of self-discipline within them.
Well Dear I'm afraid you are just deferring that guilt and when the consequences of your actions finally come home to roust the damage will be irreversible and the guilt will be overwhelming and unassailable. It'll be like Hannah finally deciding, when she's 20, that she wants to know as much as Nat does; it will be 23 years too late; the opportunity will be gone and it will never ever again be available to her or her kids! I should know; after all that's exactly the reason why my life is such a fucked up failure and my mind is permanently filled with a feeling of "what if" and "if only".
I though mothers were supposedly the practical ones - "the hand that rocks the cradle" and all that but obviously not. When it comes to facing up to the future world they are probably going to face Deborah performs the ultimate ostrich impression - refusing, under any circumstances, to take her head out of the sand.
Well looking on the bright side, with any fucking luck I'll be dead by then and unable to see the results and say I told you so.
No comments:
Post a Comment