When you’re too tired to be grown up
Creator has seen it fit to bless me with three daughters; a teenager, seven year old and an infant. Teaching them to be strong indigenous women takes up most of my time these days. That job is hard when I don’t feel strong myself.
Right now the girls are in the kitchen peeling potatoes and cooking dinner together. Actually not the infant. She is in her crib laying beside me staring at her hands. And actually not the seven year old either. She is rolling across the kitchen floor singing a song about how she doesn’t want to peel potatoes. And the teenager is I think watching a tv show on her iPhone and half way through peeling one potato – twenty minutes into the job.
Today is just one of those days. The sink is filled with dirty dishes all over again. It’s getting dark out. We’re all hungry. The pizza commercials in between scenes on Young and the Restless are looking mighty tasty — but I am bound and determined to get these girls to work together to cook actual vegetables and make a real home cooked meal. Nothing fancy just peel, boil, and mash. Making them cook on their own counts as me being a grown up right?
To be honest, I want to roll across the ground alongside my 7 year old and have a grown up temper tantrum. But that’s not allowed. And as the mom you have to be strong and keep going no matter what. No. Matter. What. Even if you don’t have the strength or power to. Even if you’d rather feed everyone a handful of Ritz crackers and a swig of orange juice straight from the jug for dinner.
I shouldn’t do that…right?
I want to though. I’m tired. I’ve hit the wall of adulting today. I want someone else to do all the adulting. A real adult. Not me. An actual grown up with actual grown up things like life insurance and a 401K savings plan.
Not to talk down about my parental abilities at all. I know I’m a good mom. My kids are clean and fed and loved and warm. I just wish for a moment that today someone else would take over for a while and clean and feed and love and warm me too.
It’s the kind of thing that makes you yearn for the Haudenousaunee days of yore when we all lived in longhouses together and everyone pitched in to care for the whole clan. But then that makes me think of having to share everything with everyone and then that makes me think of that show Sister Wives and that makes me feel all gross inside.
Actually now that I think about it I’m good. Communal living is definitely not for me. It may have worked for my ancestors but I definitely like my single family dwelling. If I had to share my home with another woman who would try to tell my man and my kids what to do I would probably go bonkers. Man just writing that makes me feel nuts. I, like any other self respecting rez mom, would quite reasonably go off on another woman trying to tell my kids and my man what to do. That better not ever happen. Ever.
Still though sometimes I wish I could download my brain and responsibilities to an avatar mom that I could put in my place for a while when I’m this tired. But not a sister wife. Not ever. I’m way to rez for that.