Sometimes I just don’t want to be needed. Maybe it’s this particular week or maybe it’s that I’m still adjusting to the school routine, but I am literally about to shiv the next person who asks for breakfast, a back rub, help with homework, or anything that involves me and/or my superhuman, Jane-of-all-trades capabilities. Sometimes I just don’t want to be a mom!
A large part of this feeling, akin to a juiced lemon that’s not trashed because its rind is a key ingredient in the icing, is the nature of being an educator. Teaching high school math means I’m basically a surrogate parent to 180 of our future leaders. It’s taxing to say the least, especially on tests days when 123 of them realize they have no idea what I’ve been talking about for the last week and they all decide to take advantage of the fact that I am available for help at seven a.m. I’m a good enough actress to proceed with patience, but on the inside, I’m questioning the world’s chance of survival when this lot’s in charge. (Kidding! You’re all brilliant!)
So after a day of helping everyone else’s teenagers, I then go home to my own four who’ve been left to their own devices for at least an hour or so. My oldest daughter wants me to listen as she talks stream-of-conscience-like about her day and her emotions and the latest drama. My youngest wants help with spelling and laundry and checking her anole (lizard) for signs of life. My oldest just wants me to take him driving so he can practice his questionable round-about skills while listening to his music and then hopefully convince me to buy him Subway. And my middle son sits so quietly while he plays games on his phone that working-mom guilt compels me to invent tasks with which to help him. Argh!
But I don’t really want to do any of these things. I want to go up to my room, close the door, and eat my oatmeal crème pie while vegging out on the latest Drunk History episode. I don’t want to plan dinner or run to the grocery or pick anyone up from [enter your sport here]practice. And I sure as shoot don’t want to play the good wife to my husband, who can often be needier than the kids! “Will you please rub my feet/grab my dry cleaning/watch Top Gear with me?” No!
But of course I do. Because that’s what it means to be a spouse, mother, and/or teacher. We answer the call even when we don’t want to. And on that note, I shall leave you. Someone needs me! Peace out.
