Monday, August 16, 2010

I Admit It; My Kids Make Me Angry Sometimes

Today was the first day of school, and my workday was completely productive.  Despite having a staggering 115 accounts faxed to me, I had about 7 added on throughout the day.  And got most of them done.  My job is not to complete all of them, but to get the ones for the next day finished.  As in, on Monday, I am getting authorizations for Tuesday and hopefully most of Wednesday.  Anything else on there is gravy.

I was really excited when the kids came home because I wanted to hear about their day.  Missy came home first.  She got one class fixed (every year they put her in remedial reading, we can't figure out why.  She took Honors last year) and got stuck in one she didn't want, so she signed up for a schedule change.  She didn't get the one class she truly wanted, which was Culinary Arts.  She had to get that signed by a teacher last year for her to take it, so it's quite surprising that she didn't get it. 

During the course of the day on facebook, I heard from a childhood friend whose "baby daddy" ran out on her, and she is raising her daughter on her own.  Her daughter starts school next week, and my friend cannot afford new clothes for her daughter.  My heart immediately went out to my friend, and I asked for her daughter's sizes so I could find a few things for her. 

So one might imagine my distress when I heard Missy on the phone with a friend stating that she hated the new shoes I had bought her (which SHE picked out) and wouldn't be wearing them.  Now, they're only Target shoes, and only cost $15, but I immediately saw red.  I thought, shoot, I could have bought a new pack of underwear, some socks and maybe a shirt with $15 for my friend's little girl.  A little girl who would appreciate the gesture.  I asked Missy why she hated her shoes, and she said they squeaked when she walked.  Ummm, ok.  If you wear them a couple of times, you'll probably get the squeak out.  But no...she's done with them.  Brand new.  I was so disgusted by the arrogance of her attitude that I literally had to walk away from her.

I grew up dirt poor.  I didn't get too many new clothes, and if I did, it was because a charity like the church gave them to us.  Most of my hand-me-downs came from my cousin Renee.  And her favorite color was pink and I hated pink.  I did get new socks and underwear, my mom was able to pull that off.  But I've stood in front of Missy's closet, and my 8 year old Sarah was insanely jealous of the closet my Missy had. 

Then tonight at 9:15, Bucket decided he was hungry.  I said, "It's too late, don't eat anything."  Next thing I know, he popped in a bagel.  Now I'm mad because he disobeyed me.  Then he made it just a bit too brown for his taste (not at all burned, but he likes his bagels very lightly toasted) so he attempted to throw it out.  I wouldn't let him.  I made him put the cream cheese on and made him eat it.  First disobeying, then wasting food?  Ugh.  It makes me sick. 

I know I'm not rich by any means, but sometimes I think it's better to raise your kids in poverty.  Really.  Not no-place-to-live-bedroom-in-my-car-homeless-shelter poverty, but having barely enough.  Being appreciative of small things.  Expecting nothing, so being delighted with little.  I somehow missed this for my own children, and it bothers me.  They expect hand outs.  Demand the best.  Pout when things don't fall instantly into their laps.  I missed this part of parenting, and considering my oldest is 15, I'm not sure if I can fix it in time.  I'm just bummed and not feeling very mother of the year right now.   I love my kids so very dearly.  But I think I've made a few errors along the way with them.

No comments: