Please Read This

Someone brought to my attention that my last post could have easily offended someone very important to me. So I just wanted to clear things up.

When I wrote that I wanted the in-home people to call my mom to validate myself, I was truly joking. I thought it sounded funny. One of my faults is that I'll do anything to make people laugh.

Of course I wouldn't lump my mom in the category of arrogant assholes at the hospital. But, we do have a history. It was probably too soon for a joke about it but I'm too stupid and clueless to notice that. (Part of my doing anything to get a laugh trait.)

Back before Taz's behaviors were truly disturbing, he looked a lot like a spoiled brat having long drawn out tantrums because we weren't disciplining him well. And I was extremely self-conscious because I thought that part of it must be my fault. No one was really seeing how hard it was to disciplining him. To make him stop, to make him change. It was easy to judge and it was easy for me to become sensitive to it.

The truth is..."mom" could have been substituted for anyone in order to get my point across. It could have been dad, in-laws, brother, church, even husband.

Dh has told me on more than one occasion that because the kids are better around him, the problem must be me. I told him that's because he let's them do whatever they want. Boom! Explosive argument.

The point to my post wasn't who was to blame for my feeling the need to be validated. Just the fact that it felt nice to get it. I'm an exaggerator. Everyone who knows me knows that about me. It's part of what makes me a writer and a good storyteller. But it can also destroy your personal life. Like hurting people you love by accident.

My mom is often the target of family jokes because...well...she's around. And that's harder than it seems. My dad was gone most of my life. My mom had to work really hard to create the life my brother and I had. I've written about my own childhood memories on this blog before, and about wanting to recreate them with Taz and Chica, so you know it was good.

Not just that but then we go and adopt a child with mental health issues that she has no biological relation to and just demand everyone accept him and deal with what comes. And she's taken it all in stride.

She loves Taz. Very very much. And Chica too of course.

I think because I'm constantly overwhelmed and everyone tells me that I need more help, I just expect that the people who are available to help should be doing it. All the time. It's my own unrealistic expectation, I know that. But I'm so wrapped up in the chaos around me that I sometimes ignore other things.

Like offending someone on my blog.