OK, here I am. Ready to lay it all out on the line. (For future reference…this is probably where the court transcripts will someday start.)
Am I a disgruntled mom? I can say that I am 100%, definitely, entirely, kind of, a little bit disgruntled…I think.
What is disgruntled? The definition I have of disgruntled is, “one who is angry or dissatisfied.” Based on that–yes- I am disgruntled. I should clarify though that I’m not “angry or dissatisfied” with being a mom or with my kids. That’s just my general state of being. I’ve never been one of those people who are naturally chipper and exuberant. I had rose colored glasses once; I traded them for a pack of cigarettes.
My being disgruntled has more to do with having a humorous disgust with things that happen in my life now. My younger, cooler self (YCS) would be horrified if she could look at what her life will be like. There are no more random, last minute cross-country road trips to catch Metallica in concert. No more Trans Ams with T-tops and kick-ass Pioneer stereos. No more trying to decide whether a shopping spree or rent should come out of this pay check. Nope, my life is full of responsibility now. I gave up fighting, I gave up cigarettes, I even gave up the f-word. Now I’m responsible for shaping impressionable young minds and enlightening them with the lessons that will allow them to be productive members of society. It isn’t easy. My YCS would never have thought that she’d one day have to actually tell someone, “you are not allowed to pee on your brother!”
Sometimes I wish I was like the warm, happy, approachable mothers I see all around me. The kind who join mommy support groups and trade recipes and scrapbooking tips. The fact is, I don’t fit in and I’m fine with that. I view the world from a slightly skewed perspective. But I know I’m not alone. There are other moms out there who don’t fit the mold. And if I had a drink, I’d raise a toast to you.