People keep telling me I am a good mother. My daughter is friendly, bright, talented….
I am NOT a good mother. My daughter has no real friends, she goes nowhere without me or her grandmother, she isn’t all that self-confident, and she sometimes reminds me more of a five year old than a teenager. Part of that, I blame on her father. When she was small, and I told her to put away her things, instead of backing me up, he’d make the mess vanish so I wouldn’t yell at her. Part of it is my fault… since the house usually looks like a disaster, I won’t encourage her to invite friends here. I would like for her to have friends to go places with, but I never wanted her in structured activities like softball or scouts. I don’t want her growing up too fast: the clothes and make up some of her classmates were wearing in middle school was inappropriate in my opinion.
I am not a good mother. My child, whom I love more than life itself, is afraid of my temper. I have a very loud temper.
That temper slipped its leash this morning. I was so angry, I told her to get dressed and go to her grandmother, before it got any more out of hand. I ignored them both, focusing on at least getting two days worth of dishes washed instead. Now they have gone shopping, and there is a fear in me: if something happens now, will they know how much I love them both? When we parted with harsh words and anger controlling me?
The anger is quiet now, leashed again. The dishes are washed. The rest of the house still is a mess, mostly with her things scattered all over the place. And I wish they were home.