I always held this illusion that once Amanda got older that I could and would have more time to myself. And to a certain level this is true.
Of course she doesn't want to spend much time with us, especially me. Amanda hates me right now. She tweets about how much she hates me in fact. She hates me, I am a screaming bitch who never leaves her alone and makes everything about myself. She can't wait to move out. I never help her. We aren't there for her. blah blah blah
Now 99% of what this little girl feels is her feeling but factual bullshit. Except maybe one thing. I may make more of "our" shit "my" shit. I often find I can not look at things from her way of thinking. I want her to be rational. I was rarely rational until about 5minutes ago, so why should I expect the same of her?
The funny thing is, Amanda takes up more of my mental time now then she ever did before. EVER. I lay in bed at night, looking at the ceiling, the clock praying for sleep but unable to untangle Amanda from my mind. The what may be, the what has been the what is now is 3/4 of what my brain is working on everyday.
I hardly have sex as every time we are close I worry Amanda will hear us and tweet how gross we are. Or that she has done the same thing in her room with some gross boy. We go out and all I talk about is Amanda. I text Nick about Amanda. I cry in the car about Amanda. It never stops.
I can't seem to back off but I can't help but think based on her long list of screw ups that she is incapable of NOT fucking up.
I am conditioned to be tense, curt, sensitive and hurt around her. Honesty, she has trained me to be this way. I know I am the mother, the more mature one. My responsibility is to care for her and not consider how I am sacrificing to meet the end goal. But you can only be mistreated for so long before you are broken. You wouldn't keep going to a friends house because they called you names, ruined your shit and was a shit head, would you? I cut the cancer of my mother from my life after years of being told i was shit, but give her money, help her out, dragged into drama and pain everyday.
So I try to put the two into separate containers. Mother in one and person in another. I imagine Amanda feels the same, that I don't see her as a person, only a daughter. That she can only handle so much of me constantly trying to tell her whats right before she doesn't care anymore. And she is likely right. But I doubt Amanda is consumed by the nature of our relationship.
This is hard.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Monday, February 27, 2012
Anniversary
Last thursday was my 11th wedding anniversary. I know that many people feel blessed to have their partner in their live's and I share that feeling. I met Nick when I was 24, still a kid. Since then this man has loved me consistenly, patiently and withot fear. I have grown up with him and because of him.
Yesterday he said to me " I am reminded everyday of all the reasons I love you. Everytime you do a little amy like thing I love you more"
I am lucky
Plus he is smart, strong and kind!
Yesterday he said to me " I am reminded everyday of all the reasons I love you. Everytime you do a little amy like thing I love you more"
I am lucky
Plus he is smart, strong and kind!
Wednesday, February 22, 2012
18
So at 17 I found myself dating somebody who I knew in my heart was not right for me. In fact he was stifling and mean spirited and violent and emotionally abusive and "straight out the trailer park" to quote Kid Rock.
But he was jealous. He would get so mad if anybody even talked to me even prior to us dating. I remember one night, a month or so before we got together he actually got physical with somebody over my attention. My best friend at the time said that was sweet, it meant he REALLY liked me.
So we dated, it was up and down. I admit at the time part of me got off on the drama of it and of course he must really love me if he acted so crazy right?
Then I broke it off.
Then I found out I was pregnant.
Again, that darn best friend " you really should tell him you are pregnant before you make any decisions". You see I had a abortion a little over a year before and didn't regret it. We were using the pull out method as many a parent has done.
I had friends with babies and I saw my mother and grandmother in their teens with kids. I had plans and they did not include a child. I know you are thinking birth control duh! I was on birth control, I missed my yearly which would have gotten me my next round of pills but missed it because I was too busy having fun. I called to reschedule. They couldn't see me for several weeks. So in my now 18year old mind I figured that I had so much hormone in my system that what were the chances?
The chances were good. I come from a fertile people. So there I was facing the monster telling him I was pregnant with his child and I was not going through with the pregnancy.
He cried. He told me everything I wanted to hear. Don't. Move in with him. Be a family. I became convinced that it was the right thing to do. Stiff upper lip, made your bed now lie in it. Won't be so bad. He asked me to marry him. I had the sense to say no, I said no to this request more than once over the next 2.5years.
We got a apartment.
I got hit the first day we moved into that apartment. The phone didn't get turned on and somehow it was my fault. I spent the next few years in a nightmare. Accused of being a whore daily, punched, raped, pissed on. Hit. Bruised inside and out.
I still tried. Tried to what I don't know. Make it better? Make him better? Me?
I finally left. Things were really rough for me and Amanda and not long after leaving him the bottom fell out. He started molesting her. Told the arresting officers that he was lonely, she reminded him of me. Court dates, mandated therapy. Supervised visits and then at age 6 he stopped seeing her. The seeing her did her more damage than the abuse did I feel that in my heart. I know it to be true.
Why this back story? She is the same age I was when I had her. I love my daughter, I have and will walk through fire for her. But there has always been so many layers to this complicated business of being her mother. Guilt, shame, anger, resentment. There I said it. Resentment. Not now but then and due to that more guilt and shame.
I find myself in awe of her, afraid of her, mad at her. I love her and want to scream at her. Don't you get it? Love YOURSELF! Be YOURSELF! Trust and value YOURSELF!
Our relationship is "complicated". This is not how it was supposed to be. I often wonder what it must be like to bring a child into the world amidst happiness and love. To eagerly anticipate the arrival of that little person. To not have basic surviving cloud the joys of motherhood. I will never know that. It makes me sad. I do not love her any less for it. I love her different. Fiercely. We are so alike but she does not listen. We are so different. She is of me. She is 18.
Let me add this- Amanda is beautiful and creative and smart and the thought of losing her takes my breath away. Whether I lose her through her hating me or moving away. I still check on her before I go to sleep, looking at her sweet face, the little weird inhale she does while dreaming. I LOVE HER. With all my being.
I told my therapist this a few months back, that there was a plan. Amanda is the only thing I ever tried to do "right" to not take shortcuts with to hold in such awe and love that her succeeding would be the crowning jewel in my crown.
I was going to be her parent and then when she was older, say 18- we would be best friends. She would understand all my talking and trying, all the mothering and rules and talks about sex and boys and ambition even when she didn't want them. But that isn't happening. And it may never happen. It breaks my heart that my plan didn't come to be.
Again, so like me and yet so alien to me.
Monday, February 20, 2012
Education Part II
So still thinking about this higher education thing. And refusing to change the two grammatical errors my hubby found in my last post. I am not a English Major!.
Anyways, have I mentioned that I feel I have learned very little during this experience? I knew going in that it wouldn't be like in the movies, I wouldn't have a Professor that I connected with and together we uncovered some great historical mystery. There would be no corduroy patches on my sweaters as I sat in libraries nose in book as the light showed all those little bits of dust floating in the air like little knowledge fairies.
The lack of learning was hard to swallow though. Undergrad was bad, sitting in 100level classes where students asked what peasants were! Or listening to two Abrecrombie clad skinny bitches state that the black and white documentary on the mis-treatment of the mentally ill in state run facilities obviously did not have sound as there was no sound in movies then ( it was shot in the 1950's). Or my favorite by far, taking a higher level class on the presidents. That should be interesting right? Feeling like I could stand to learn more on the topic, I signed up. To my surprise the whole semester consisted of watching the History Channel's series on the presidents! Nick and I had watched it 6 months prior. So paid for a class I could have and already did watch at home. Not to mention paid way less to watch from my couch. I rarely went and still got a B+. Ridiculous.
And Graduate school has not been better. I spend the majority of each class working in groups. It's supposed to give us a hands on approach to both collaborative learning and how our students will best learn when we are teaching. I am sorry, but reading a article with 3-4 other people when I know only half of them are relatively intelligent (you know who you are) to then have each one of us "discuss" something valid or important we took away from said article annoys me. So does making masks with feathers and sequins to "learn" how to teach grade school students about diversity. I am also not keen on making a culturally diverse snack mix, having my name written on a Popsicle stick to be pulled into a group or re-reading chapters in groups and then putting important notes on giant sized sticky notes on the wall. The last exercise's purpose explained to me by the Professor who is also my Advisor as a means to make sure "everybody reads the material".
So then why bother assigning me the chapters to read?
I have learned very little in college. Some things have been helpful. How to construct a lesson plan, different methods of measuring a student's interest or knowledge. Learned a little about terrorist groups around the world. A little psychology. Some terms and dates. But overwhelming, I knew most of this crap or with a little point in the right direction could have learned from my computer chair.
I feel none of this is preparing me to be a competent, engaging, successful teacher. I am learning how to be annoyed and shuffle papers around and how to BS my way from one A to another.
I am also learning about debt and stress.
To be a teacher maybe we should have a extended apprenticeship where we can actually learn the shit that will help us instead of all this theory. They shove teaching to culturally diverse and under privileged students every semester, with books such as Other People's Children which were originally written in the late 80's early 90's and revised in the early 2000's. Umm a lots changed. And a book is not going to teach me the reality of Poughkeepsie of Kingston High.
Just more rambling I am sure but it's my experience.
Anyways, have I mentioned that I feel I have learned very little during this experience? I knew going in that it wouldn't be like in the movies, I wouldn't have a Professor that I connected with and together we uncovered some great historical mystery. There would be no corduroy patches on my sweaters as I sat in libraries nose in book as the light showed all those little bits of dust floating in the air like little knowledge fairies.
The lack of learning was hard to swallow though. Undergrad was bad, sitting in 100level classes where students asked what peasants were! Or listening to two Abrecrombie clad skinny bitches state that the black and white documentary on the mis-treatment of the mentally ill in state run facilities obviously did not have sound as there was no sound in movies then ( it was shot in the 1950's). Or my favorite by far, taking a higher level class on the presidents. That should be interesting right? Feeling like I could stand to learn more on the topic, I signed up. To my surprise the whole semester consisted of watching the History Channel's series on the presidents! Nick and I had watched it 6 months prior. So paid for a class I could have and already did watch at home. Not to mention paid way less to watch from my couch. I rarely went and still got a B+. Ridiculous.
And Graduate school has not been better. I spend the majority of each class working in groups. It's supposed to give us a hands on approach to both collaborative learning and how our students will best learn when we are teaching. I am sorry, but reading a article with 3-4 other people when I know only half of them are relatively intelligent (you know who you are) to then have each one of us "discuss" something valid or important we took away from said article annoys me. So does making masks with feathers and sequins to "learn" how to teach grade school students about diversity. I am also not keen on making a culturally diverse snack mix, having my name written on a Popsicle stick to be pulled into a group or re-reading chapters in groups and then putting important notes on giant sized sticky notes on the wall. The last exercise's purpose explained to me by the Professor who is also my Advisor as a means to make sure "everybody reads the material".
So then why bother assigning me the chapters to read?
I have learned very little in college. Some things have been helpful. How to construct a lesson plan, different methods of measuring a student's interest or knowledge. Learned a little about terrorist groups around the world. A little psychology. Some terms and dates. But overwhelming, I knew most of this crap or with a little point in the right direction could have learned from my computer chair.
I feel none of this is preparing me to be a competent, engaging, successful teacher. I am learning how to be annoyed and shuffle papers around and how to BS my way from one A to another.
I am also learning about debt and stress.
To be a teacher maybe we should have a extended apprenticeship where we can actually learn the shit that will help us instead of all this theory. They shove teaching to culturally diverse and under privileged students every semester, with books such as Other People's Children which were originally written in the late 80's early 90's and revised in the early 2000's. Umm a lots changed. And a book is not going to teach me the reality of Poughkeepsie of Kingston High.
Just more rambling I am sure but it's my experience.
Sunday, February 19, 2012
Education
A few days ago I had to jump through hoops to consolidate my student loans in order to take advantage of recent government laws that will reduce the interest on student loans. Not all my loans qualified but enough to hopefully make a difference.
This got me thinking about what I thought education would give me and the realities of what I have.
I for as long as I can remember wanted to be college educated. My mother was a avid reader, but our family was lower middle class, with the exception of my maternal grandmother who with her husband owned a successful local oil company. But even they worked long hard hours. My mother was allergic to work but everyone around me had to bust their asses to put food on the table, especially my uncles, and my grandmothers.
I did things backwards, kid at 18, husband at 24, undergrad starting at 25 not finished until 34 and now a graduate degree that will be done when I am 38. Fucking 38. and my degree? BA in History and MEd in Secondary Education 6-12. The economy is in shambles, the education system is a mess, teachers are being downsized and I am finally at the cusp of achieving my childhood dream of being a teacher. Yay for fucking me. 50k in student debt and I will be lucky if I have a job.
I always felt that having education would be something NOBODY could take away from me a big middle finger to disprove what my mother thought of me and women in general. A means to crawl out from my own debilitating self esteem issues. If I was educated, people would take me seriously. Men especially. I would no longer feel like the fat piece of white trash in the room pretending to be a academic.
It hasn't worked yet. I do not have any rise in salary because of my BA regardless of news articles stating I should make more. I love to nanny and it affords me flexibility to finish school but I still only care for other, richer, educated peoples children. I am domestic help. The irony at times makes me laugh. When I finally have this coveted Masters degree I will still be a nanny. Or a billing adjuster. Who knows how long until I have a teaching job or if I will ever reach the finally goal of a Phd?
Use your BA people say. To do what? Work at a museum for 9 a hour? Well at least it's work people say. Ok then you try to pay your bills on 9 a hour.
And that young woman who feels she is too stupid to take part in most conversations? Still here. The pieces of paper haven't "fixed" that. I guess I have to find the right tools to fine tune that problem.
This got me thinking about what I thought education would give me and the realities of what I have.
I for as long as I can remember wanted to be college educated. My mother was a avid reader, but our family was lower middle class, with the exception of my maternal grandmother who with her husband owned a successful local oil company. But even they worked long hard hours. My mother was allergic to work but everyone around me had to bust their asses to put food on the table, especially my uncles, and my grandmothers.
I did things backwards, kid at 18, husband at 24, undergrad starting at 25 not finished until 34 and now a graduate degree that will be done when I am 38. Fucking 38. and my degree? BA in History and MEd in Secondary Education 6-12. The economy is in shambles, the education system is a mess, teachers are being downsized and I am finally at the cusp of achieving my childhood dream of being a teacher. Yay for fucking me. 50k in student debt and I will be lucky if I have a job.
I always felt that having education would be something NOBODY could take away from me a big middle finger to disprove what my mother thought of me and women in general. A means to crawl out from my own debilitating self esteem issues. If I was educated, people would take me seriously. Men especially. I would no longer feel like the fat piece of white trash in the room pretending to be a academic.
It hasn't worked yet. I do not have any rise in salary because of my BA regardless of news articles stating I should make more. I love to nanny and it affords me flexibility to finish school but I still only care for other, richer, educated peoples children. I am domestic help. The irony at times makes me laugh. When I finally have this coveted Masters degree I will still be a nanny. Or a billing adjuster. Who knows how long until I have a teaching job or if I will ever reach the finally goal of a Phd?
Use your BA people say. To do what? Work at a museum for 9 a hour? Well at least it's work people say. Ok then you try to pay your bills on 9 a hour.
And that young woman who feels she is too stupid to take part in most conversations? Still here. The pieces of paper haven't "fixed" that. I guess I have to find the right tools to fine tune that problem.
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