Thursday, December 1, 2011

I Can’t Hear You. Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah!

by Mary Alford-Carman

I’m pretty sure that at some time, my children and husband will need therapy because of me. At this particular date, I’d love for them to start their therapy now because they are driving ME crazy. I’m beginning to wonder if I’m actually physically present in their lives as I never seem to be heard, and my viewpoints are ignored. I must be invisible, or suffering from delusions of some kind. I thought I was a person with experience and an education, but all evidence points towards the invisible theory. 

Case in point: How many times must you tell a teen to clean their room, study, or take out the trash before they actually hear you? In our household it appears the answer is 760 times over a period of (at least) a week. Sure, I can understand that teens are basically aliens who have taken over a child’s body until they hit 26 or 27, but I always hoped there would be times when you could actually connect with them. This appears to be my delusion number two. 

Delusion number three: My husband will hear me, actually hear me and listen! You know what I’m talking about. There are those moments when seeking your advice, you give it only to find out that the guy the down the street, or any guy for that matter, trumps your years of experience and education. I do have to admit to gloating when their advice turns out to be completely wrong and I was right in the first place. Gloat, honey I do a happy dance, its call the “I Told You So!” (Honestly, I can be soooo obnoxious.) It’s hard to be humble when your offerings aren’t taken because of a Y chromosome. He’s not chauvinist, he just doesn’t get it, bless his heart.

 There are days that I question why I bothered with college. The moment I left the “working world” and made the decision to stay at home to be a full-time Mom to my children, I suddenly got dummied down. I have been told that this is my perception of myself. To that I say (forgive me), bite me! I can’t begin to count the times that the reaction to what I do has been met with “Oh. Isn’t that nice,” or some other condescending reaction. It sometimes feels just like that in my own home and quite frankly, that stinks.  I figure that if they can’t hear me, I don’t have to do the million and six things that I do for them on a daily basis. Now that’s being invisible. Do you think they’ll notice, or is that delusion number four?

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