Where I need to unload a little.
Bloggers, I have become the explination lady. And I really hate the job. I mean really really.
It started years ago. When the pieces of my marriage fell apart, it was me that ultimately explained the bare facts of what was going on. Like I said before, we never had the 'talk', but I did explain things. Then I explained the move. Then the next move. I explained the new school. And the next new school. Then I eplained charter school and uniforms. Then in 2008, I explained Ome's first hospital stay and the owie they had to go inside to fix. Then I explained me going to work. Then I had to explain how Daddy and Mrs. S could have a baby when they were not married. Wow.
Then Ome's second hospital stay. Then my decision to move them to where they basically knew no one. I had to explain why mommy was mad at the lack of stove and fridge. Nothing big.
A funny thing happened then, I stopped explaining to my kids and started explaining to everyone else. To my mom about why I deal when Randy jerks me around. To section eight, the food stamps, to medicare, the repeat that process about four times.
Most recently we switched back to my kids. I had to explain to then about the break in. I had to try an exolain my shellshock. Then they were supposed to have a sleep over on Saturday but then a bad thing happened that for the first time in a long time I had to skim the outer most layers of the situation to get something I could tell them and damn if they didn't spend Saturday and that night pissed as hell at me because in their world, I had called it off and it was my fault and they had been good all week for shit. I'm going to have a tough time promising the be good for a week for reward thing again.
So today I had to wake them up and tell them that Ome is in the hospital again. I had to explain that she needs surgery again. Except I had been explaining to children for so long I didn't notice I was now talking to tweens, pre tween and thinks I'm a tween. What came out was "Ome is in the hospital, she has an owie that they have to fix." When bounced back was, "Ome has o have surgery again? Is it her hernia or something else?"
Btw, its her hernia. The repair needs to be repaired. Trust Jersey Shore University Medical Center to eff it up once and three years later. From four hundred miles away no less. Now that's talent.
I can't do the explaining job anymore. I have no heart for it and apparently I kinda suck at it. What with my targert audience growing up and all.
Not a failure moment, bloggers, but a tired moment and not because I'm running fourteen hours on one hour sleep wih a body shaking cough. Just tired. Hand the microphone to the next person and just go the hell home tired.
I'm going to send the kids off to school and catch a few zzz's by the tail.
Good morning/night/ afternoon bloggers. Terminally Single and Blogging is going in search of sleep.
Bloggers, I have become the explination lady. And I really hate the job. I mean really really.
It started years ago. When the pieces of my marriage fell apart, it was me that ultimately explained the bare facts of what was going on. Like I said before, we never had the 'talk', but I did explain things. Then I explained the move. Then the next move. I explained the new school. And the next new school. Then I eplained charter school and uniforms. Then in 2008, I explained Ome's first hospital stay and the owie they had to go inside to fix. Then I explained me going to work. Then I had to explain how Daddy and Mrs. S could have a baby when they were not married. Wow.
Then Ome's second hospital stay. Then my decision to move them to where they basically knew no one. I had to explain why mommy was mad at the lack of stove and fridge. Nothing big.
A funny thing happened then, I stopped explaining to my kids and started explaining to everyone else. To my mom about why I deal when Randy jerks me around. To section eight, the food stamps, to medicare, the repeat that process about four times.
Most recently we switched back to my kids. I had to explain to then about the break in. I had to try an exolain my shellshock. Then they were supposed to have a sleep over on Saturday but then a bad thing happened that for the first time in a long time I had to skim the outer most layers of the situation to get something I could tell them and damn if they didn't spend Saturday and that night pissed as hell at me because in their world, I had called it off and it was my fault and they had been good all week for shit. I'm going to have a tough time promising the be good for a week for reward thing again.
So today I had to wake them up and tell them that Ome is in the hospital again. I had to explain that she needs surgery again. Except I had been explaining to children for so long I didn't notice I was now talking to tweens, pre tween and thinks I'm a tween. What came out was "Ome is in the hospital, she has an owie that they have to fix." When bounced back was, "Ome has o have surgery again? Is it her hernia or something else?"
Btw, its her hernia. The repair needs to be repaired. Trust Jersey Shore University Medical Center to eff it up once and three years later. From four hundred miles away no less. Now that's talent.
I can't do the explaining job anymore. I have no heart for it and apparently I kinda suck at it. What with my targert audience growing up and all.
Not a failure moment, bloggers, but a tired moment and not because I'm running fourteen hours on one hour sleep wih a body shaking cough. Just tired. Hand the microphone to the next person and just go the hell home tired.
I'm going to send the kids off to school and catch a few zzz's by the tail.
Good morning/night/ afternoon bloggers. Terminally Single and Blogging is going in search of sleep.
