I am so....tired.
I cook. I clean. I do laundry. I pick up stuff after able-bodied people who could pick up after themselves...but won't. I cook healthy food that nobody will eat, even after I "baby it down" for them, because that just doesn't happen to be what they want at the moment. I turn clothes right-side-out before washing them because it's too much of a bother for those who wore them to do so even though it would make my ten loads of laundry a little easier to do.
I tried to train the grandchildren to do the right thing by using discipline. You're late for school because you wouldn't get out of bed?---You don't go anywhere fun that week. You smart off to your grandparents---You're grounded from the phone and internet for a few days. It all seemed logical to me.
But I don't live in a vacuum. I share parenting responsibilities with someone who doesn't often see eye-to-eye with me. We've had screaming matches about it. Many, many screaming matches. I'm ready to be hardcore and he's not.
It isn't as simple as parents who disagree. It's about stressed-out middle-aged people who should be enjoying life and each other's company instead of dealing with day-in and day-out child rearing and the sacrifices that go along with it. It's about having been through the parenting trials and tribulations once and coming out on the other side with a sense of failure and exhaustion and not wanting to re-live the hell from the previous few decades, but not 100% sure how to avoid it.
This evening I had a fight with my husband because I need someone to support me, listen to me, let me vent, and maybe---just maybe---offer an encouraging word. He just can't be that guy. It isn't how he thinks. If he can't fix it he just wants to walk away. And I'm not looking for answers (there aren't any), just a shoulder to cry on. It's hard to cry on a shoulder that's already retreating into another room.
I won't even go into the childhood I had. Suffice it to say it didn't give me mad coping skills. Just a desire to make a better life for myself down the road. Which I thought I had...until someone else's choices stole all mine away.
I just had a sixteen year old tell me "Screw you!" because she couldn't have a grilled cheese sandwich instead of the dinner I spent two hours preparing in between washing her inside-out clothes. Yeah, I gave up my life to raise you. You're welcome.
I'm ready to move on.