hoarse

From screaming at the Sniglet… no, not “all day,” because he only got home from school at 2, and I had his lunch all ready so he didn’t even have a pretext for picking a fight with me until 3 or so. God, has it only been four hours? Four hours of “two words, mama – shut. up,” and “I hate you” and copying everything I say in that wiseass voice kids use when they want to be sold to the gypsies. It only took him four hours to break me. I finally threatened to hit him and sent him to bed, 90 minutes early.

I fought like hell for this child, for Ignatz to have a sibling. A year of fighting with my husband, then a year in couples therapy, then a year of separation before he finally accepted that I shouldn’t have to wait until his entire career is done before I can do (part of) what I want with my life, and then when he did relent, his condition was that I wait another year. Four years in all, I waited.

For this.

Song du jour of the day: Why, by Annie Lennox.

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5 responses to “hoarse

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