...or why I suck as a parent sometimes.
I'm beginning to think that I'm turning myself into a freakin' martyr. Nothing would displease me more. Thankfully it is the end of the week so this feeling that I just have to rip off the layers of my existence until it is only me and nothing or no-one else around me isn't as acute as if it were a Monday night, say.
Well, look at that 9:45 am tomorrow - appointment with "Dr. Roberts." Perhaps I should just print this and hand it to him. Then he'll nod and pull out his prescription pad and in a scene reminiscent of the Ralphie teacher essay grading fantasy in Christmas Story, write up my new scrip.
And all of this had nothing to do with homework. I'm thinking I'd better get to bed because I have a certain daughter to awaken in the am to see if a night's sleep will have awoken her creative juices. I go from putting Julian to bed and of course nodding off doing so to plopping across the table from the daughter who is sullenly doing anything but her homework assignment (we won't talk about the spilled toothpicks or the two hours squandered when she got home). I'm sorry, sometimes I don't have it in me to inspire or offer beginnings or spoon feed how to approach an assignment.
Sometimes you just have to come up with it on your own, kid. Hey, maybe I don't suck at this parenting thing after all.
Don't I feel better now. Maybe ever so slightly. Good night.