I honestly felt better after ranting last week, so I'm back. Today's post is more of a lament. Last year I skipped all the kids' performances and events because of my concussion stuff because I was convinced I couldn't handle them, because I knew the pain would be excruciating, and because I knew the days after would be long and arduous in recovery.
This year, though, the mom guilt was just too great.
So I've been going. Even though it's awful. Even though it's miserable.
Even though it's the most exquisite torture you can ever imagine.
There's my darling, up on stage, performing her little heart out. Singing her solo. Doing amazing. Sounding awesome.
There's her mother, in the audience, cringing at every clap and cheer, at the boom of the mic, the crescendo, etc. Wishing I had something, anything that could block out the noise. I stumble out at the end of it all blindly, like a drunken sailor at the end of a wild night, looking for a hole to crawl into to sleep it off.
This is what mothers do.
And sometimes it totally sucks. My girls will never know how much it costs me to sit in the audience and hear them sing. How much it physically hurts. But how could I miss it? Because I know how much it hurts them when I sit home and don't attend their concerts. I've seen it, all last year. They'd tell me it was okay because that's what was expected of them. And they tried hard to be okay with it. Philosophical about it. But it mattered. It's not fair. It's not right. It's not their fault I'm going through this, that I've got this problem. And I'm tired of making them suffer for it.
Honestly, I'm tired of all of it. The headaches, the sensitivity to noise, how the crowds make me physically ill with their talking and clapping and cheering. How even plugging my ears does nothing to relieve the misery.
And then the next day when I sleep until noon to try and recover, and then feel thick headed and groggy and still try to get things done.
Because it's a mom thing, I guess.