The Green Monster is not just the outfield wall at Fenway Park, people!
It’s this pit in my stomach. The pit that grows jealous, envious, and resentful sometimes. Sometimes usually means daily. Mostly. Sometimes.
(This is the part where I bear my soul and come clean, so please don’t chew me up and spit me back out afterwards, OK?)
Sometimes—I really get upset (usually when I read stuff on Twitter) when parents complain about their “typical” children. Someone will say “today I am ready for it to be wine o’clock because I can’t stand my kids.” Then I get all upset and usually think about how horrible that is to talk about children like that. It’s not as if my kids don’t drive me nuts sometimes… I also cannot have children so that part of me is jealous—I want to be able to have a baby. It’s just pretty hard to do that when you don’t have a uterus and you have a Jack.
Sometimes—I read about other SN parents going to these big conferences and weekends and I wonder how they can do that!? I suppose that their children are able to be kept by someone. I suppose that perhaps their worries are different than mine. I just can’t imagine… I probably couldn’t even afford the ticket to go. Well, I could. I just would never spend that kind of money on myself. Heh. (Mother guilt plagues me) Also, I wish that some of the big conferences would allow SN parents to Skype in or something, because I think we (as a collective group) probably have a lot of value in society, society just doesn’t know it yet! 😉
Sometimes—I am insecure. I wonder if my words have value to anyone but me.
Sometimes—I imagine what life would be like. Would we be able to go on dates like real couples? If I was working full time, I would probably be doing this or that… J would have more friends. Jack would be ready to start school. And I get envious. I can count on one hand–and not use all the fingers–the times that my husband and I have left the house together, alone, in 4 and a half years. It’s a bit tough to find a babysitter who is comfortable with a medically fragile child. Related: we don’t get nursing care. Also related: we don’t live near our familes. At all.
And after I bitch and complain get it all off my chest, I know that I don’t really want this to go any other way. I am beyond blessed. I have a very handsome, hard working, devoted, loving husband who happily rolls his eyes at me when he thinks I’m nuts, but never says it out loud. I have a gorgeous, smart, perceptive daughter, who is nothing short of the most understanding child in the universe. I have a Jack who makes the world a better place just by being himself.
What else do I really need?
Absolutely nothing.
 (Take THAT, Green Monster…)