It's time to get serious. Yes, it's true. I can be serious from time to time and today I feel it's time to shed some light on something that's been haunting me.
I am not a saint.
People say this to me all the time. When I sit down at parties and I let out steam about my boys' latest antics, the first thing out of people's mouths is that I'm a saint or that the boys are lucky to have Eric and I as parents. No. Please don't say that. Let me just vent. I don't want to be congratulated for being their parent. I don't want to hear kudos for adopting them. I don't need to know that I'm a special person for taking them into my home. That's not what I want to hear or what I'm asking for. I just need a friend or friends to be there for me so I don't lose my mind.
You don't hear me screaming profanities behind my bedroom door. You don't hear me crying into my pillow. You don't see the exasperation on my face after I repeat the same thing to Austynn five times in a row. You don't notice me grinding my teeth when William talks back to me or becomes disrespectful over a simple request. You don't see me violently throwing broken toys away or wishing my children gone for a few days or a week or a month or a year.
I'm not a saint. I'm just a person who often wonders if I had a choice to do this all over again, would I? It's a hard question and there are many days, like Thursday morning when I found another smouldering battery - completely by chance - under Austynn's bed, when I wonder, would I?
I'm just an adoptive mom of two special needs kids doing the very best that I can.