Plenty of Time Later

Sometimes I get so angry. So angry at the fact that I never get a break. I never have a quiet night or a weekend away. So angry that I have to answer questions about the male anatomy or when I have to guess where the football pads go. Angry when I’m running in three different directions and I get stares from coaches because we’re late. Angry when I’m sick or I have a headache but I have to pretend I’m ok because someone needs to make dinner and help with homework.

It’s frustrating. It’s sad. It really angers me. It makes things hard. Dating, moving on with my life is nearly impossible.
There aren’t many people who truly understand what it means to be all that they have. It’s hard to understand that I have to be available every minute of every second of every single day. It’s not easy to grasp that my phone needs to be on the table at dinner just incase the text I get is from them. The constant worry that the minute I let my guard down and I leave my phone behind or I turn it off, they’ll need me. They need me and I won’t know it because I was busy on a date… That’s not a good excuse.
Not for me.

It makes me mad. It’s not fair that he’s got a life still, a complete life. A nice house and a girlfriend or fiancé; whatever she is. It ticks me off that he’s had the chance to find someone who he can lay down with after a stressful day and just chill with. I get resentful.

Then I take a deep breath.

I realize that he doesn’t have a complete life. He doesn’t have these amazing kids telling him they love him. She might be amazing. There might be an amazing guy out there that I’ve missed out on too; they could never be so amazing that I wouldn’t need my babies though.
The kiss on my cheek, the tight hugs, the I love you Mama’s… They make it worth it.
I’ll google questions about boys and puberty all day long; the fact that they can ask me those questions makes me realize what kind of relationship we have.

I feel beat up and exhausted, sometimes I feel like I’m gonna crumble into a million little pieces.
It’s just so much.
All. The. Time.
So much.

I pick my battles.
The battles have changed a lot over the past year or so. I’m not using all my energy to fight over the little things.
The little things, the big things, the once in a lifetime things and the life changing things are all me.
All my responsibility.
The kind of adults they turn out to be is all resting on my shoulders.
Two science projects. Lockers that don’t open and teachers that yell.
High school tryouts, college planning, homecoming. Boyfriends, girlfriends, best friends and enemies.
It’s all a whirlwind of three lives constantly being tossed at me.

I get mad and resentful and to be honest, I just get tired. Exhausted. Stressed. Sad.
The thought of being him, that’s even sadder. The thought of not being a part of all the craziness, the thought of not getting the goodnight kisses, not hearing about the drama and the fun; that’s sad.

They drive me crazy but I wouldn’t want it any other way. There’s plenty of time later to have free weekends and quiet nights.




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