raise your hand if you suck

I think that would just be me. I think, if there were a list of mothers in the world who absolutely never thought they would suck so bad, I would be at the top. I think, besides maybe some folks who kill their children, I am the worst parent I have ever met. I think people like Posh Spice and Brittany Spears and blah blah aren't even in the running since they have an army of people raising their children. I am an army of one and sometimes two for a coulple of hours in the afternoons and weekends. I don't like these people sometimes. I yell at them. I hold grudges against a three year old for ruining my house and my clothes and my sanity. The same for a two year old who cries all day and you might think I am exaggerating or trying to sound pathetic until you actually see that she actually does cry 7 or 8 of the hours that she's awake. She spits out her anti-seizure medicine and spills it on the floor and the pharmacy won't refill it early. She scratches herself and throws herself on the hard floor and cries until she turns gray. Even right now my right arm is being yanked and pinched and I can't hear my own thoughts over the screaming. Just one minute. I just need one minute to write down how much I wish I wasn't here right now so that I can go back to being here the rest of the day.
All these scenarios in my mind my whole life. Entire carriculum plans for how to teach dance and colors and art and letters and values and morals to these people who are my charges. All those years of wanting to be their mother and here I sit. 9:32 am on a thursday. no bra. no shower. dirty nightgown. bad posture. Tears.
pathetic. (see title of this post)
Sometimes I am trying to be ironical and cute and right now I am trying to be alive. I hate my life right now this minute on this day. I feel like I am trapped in someone else's idea of adulthood. Some Roald Dahl portrayal of vileness from a child's perspective. I don't know what to do with these people. I don't have any money to do it with anyway. there are no words for how much I hate the park. I hate the park. I hate the stupid park. I just want a nap. I need a nap. I need a shower. I need a hug. I seriously need.
I can't think of really one thing that I hoped to accomplish by the time I was 30 that is actually done. I don't have happy children. I don't have any creativity. I don't have my own money. I don't remember how to be myself and I'm almost 31. A blog is the only thing I've really written in 3 years and I am sedentary.
houses and cars and new appliances do not change the level of one's happiness. I would rather live in a winnebago and have some things figured out while I do whites at the laundrymat.
I do really like my husband and I vaguely remember life for a couple of months without someone else in it between us. All those songs about 'as long as we've got each other' and 'love will conquer all' are wonderful but my daytime marriage is to small people who are ungrateful and uncuddly. I chose Gabriel. I would not have chosen to marry my children. Ironic. By the time my real spouse comes home I have nothing much extra.
I absolutely know I am listening to the voice that would have me be sad. I am yielding to the thought that I am not good enough to be myself. I know these thoughts don't come from God but I am just going to be this way for a while until I have energy for a new thought.
and I even take medicine!
perhaps I up my dosage?
I'll ask a professional.
duty calls.
I don't need responses to a post as gratuitous and indulgent as this one. I just need to silently be heard. I just need to scream in black and white for a change.
............