Hey, Mom. How are you? I’m in the hospital. I checked out an ebook from the library to help pass the time. As you know, Ramsey is having surgery today. Losing myself in one of Nicholas Sparks’ stories is helping me not dwell on what is happening to my little girl, but I decided to take a moment just to reach out. Also, I figured I could share all the Snaps from this morning.
Last night, I spent some time watching Ramsey read. She tried to have a sleepover upstairs, but it didn’t work out. Still got some cute content. And it helped me be in the moment with her and really appreciate the time.
I struggle to be a good mom to her. I’m really quick to lose my temper. Sometimes, admonishing her may be justified, but sometimes, it’s way over the top. I am my own person, and I can’t blame anyone for my behavior as I know I can strive to fix myself. But I’ll be honest, Mom. You were a scary mom, and you could be really hateful sometimes. A memory I relayed to the family this week that is one of the worst is when you called me a “pig” in front of Mamaw, Papaw, and Maggie when I dropped a 2 liter bottle of drink and spilled it on the floor. And the other was when in a moment of frustration, you expressed a regret of my being born. I love you and forgave you for those moments long ago, but they are unfortunately ones I don’t know how to forget. I wish I could.
I type all that to remind myself not to follow your parenting path. Intimidation worked for you, but it doesn’t work for Ramsey. Unfortunately, I don’t know any other way to properly parent. I don’t always yell, but there is a limit to how much whining, tantruming, and screaming I can handle before my own powder keg explodes.
Anyway, I didn’t want to write an accusatory message to you. Just wanted to share how I’m feeling. It’s been really challenging lately, and Ramsey has tested my patience horribly, tests that I usually fail. I was always a star pupil in school, so failing at the most important job in life is one of the bitterest pills to swallow.
I often feel unworthy of her love. How can she love such a monster, and what am I teaching her about motherhood with which she might curse her own offspring (should she choose to have any)?
I’ll leave this post with something more lighthearted as I don’t want to end it so somberly. Here’s a short video of the galoot in her discovery of bubbles.
Hey, Mom! How are you? 