If you had the opportunity to read my last blog post you’ll remember that a slight hiccup was enough for me to momentarily question whether or not I might be pregnant.  I am in fact – Not.  Relieved – yes – for so many reasons.  And, in my relief there is the realization that I am done having children.  Don’t get me wrong,  I love my kids and most days I even like them…. but many days I feel as if I am under-qualified to meet the demands required of me.   I am tired, cranky, stressed out and often overwhelmed at all that has come with the job.  I relish moments of victory in which my kids shine and are triumphant; but more often I secretly cry at how hard raising them is under the circumstances.  My boys have had to endure their father and I getting divorced; and then several years later my getting remarried to a man who still to this day has yet to find his niche with them, and them with him.  The constant disconnect between everyone has taken its toll and is destroying me.  The harder I try to bring everyone together the worse it seems to get.  I have considered family counseling, and probably should go, but we never quite seem to venture down that path.  Another shortcoming of mine.  My daughter is the apple of her daddy’s eye, which is like rubbing salt in my boys wounds.  Warm and fuzzy he is with her, and yet with us his demeanor is more matter-of-a-fact.   This infuriates me to no end and no matter how many times I try and broach the subject with him, I just can never quite impress upon him how his lack of a meaningful relationship with his stepsons is destroying our family and our marriage.

Then there is the school drama with my older son coupled with the social awkwardness and the resentment from both my boys for moving them away from the town in which they grew up in.  My daughter doesn’t listen to me and while most of the time she can be so sweet, on the turn of a dime she can also be very bossy and pig-headed.  Her listening skills borderline suck and many times I feel as if I am talking to myself rather than her, or even the boys for that matter.  I set rules, everyone bends them.  I ask for help and everyone moans and groans.  I make a meal and despite the expectation that everyone will help clean up; everyone scatters.  I clean, do laundry, chauffeur my kids here, there and everywhere, help with homework, cheer, support, and will go “mother-bear” on someone for them and yet I can’t get five quite minutes to go to the bathroom in peace.  And if and when I do manage to scrape together some me time I feel guilty for it.

So yes, I am relieved – for so many reasons….