I am not alone. Actually, I feel like a am part of an underground sorority, similar to Skull and Bones. Except we don't have a secret handshake, or elaborate passwords. We identify each other by the scowls on our faces. We are all mothers who love our children. However, as the song goes, "Everything I love is killing me".
We tell everyone how wonderful our children are. And, truthfully, they can be. They have their moments. Typically, when they are asleep. Everyone else thinks that we are pretty good mothers, not perfect, but good enough. We don't say anything to the contrary, afraid that if we drop the charade we'll have nothing left to hold on to. Without having to create the illusion of being a good mother, we know that the whole family will go to Hell. So, we play on. Only once in a while do we see cracks in each others armour. We get these inside glimpses into each others lives, and we realise that we are kindred spirits. And we enjoy it!
Emilie is planning an elaborate 4th birthday party for Sam. She has asked that parents drop of their children and then pick them up four hours later. She didn't want any of the parents to hang around for the party. Perfect! That's the kind of birthday party the whole family will enjoy! Especially me! Emilie has asked for my help in the preparation. She thinks I'm "creative". Yeah, this cracks me up, too. But I have agreed to help because I have nothing better to do.
This morning, I was running my "daycare". Emilie came over to ask me a question before she popped out to the grocery store to buy the supplies she needed for the party. As she spoke, I took the shopping list out of her hand and had a look. She had ice cream, candles, and...wait for it... "liqueur".
I laughed until I thought I would die! Not quietly either. Loud enough to attract the attention of another neighbour who came over to see what was on Emilie's list. And, yes, I made fun of her as I gasped for air. You see, Emilie is damned near perfect. She runs a daycare out of her home. She loves kids. But if she's going to throw a 4 hour birthday party for her son, she anticipates the need to "self-medicate". I'm laughing as I type this!
Emilie whipped the list out of my hand, turned on her heel, and shouted back over her shoulder as she stomped away, "The French word for soda pop is liqueur". This was meant to shut me up. All I could manage to say through the increasingly violent howls of laughter was "Right!".
Okay, okay. So I am not the most supportive member of this sorority. I am also not the most advanced either. When I get to the end of my tether, I medicate the children. However, I am still left with residual anger and frustration. I need to take a page out of Emilie's book and medicate myself. Perhaps I would enjoy the children (and, let's be honest, Dan) more!