I’m a spinster. An old maid. I’m well past my years when I thought I’d be married with children. I’ve lived on my own, and enjoyed it, and I’m now living back home with my father. Again.
I do not lament this fact. I am thoroughly lucky to have a father who allows me to make this move again and again, until I’m allowed financially to move back out onto my feet again.
I have no children, and this I do lament, quite often. I want to be able to coo and cuddle, to watch them grow into headstrong toddlers, into terroristic teenagers. I want to be the one to raise them, to teach them manners, and how to not be as horribly awkward as I have always been.
But more and more that is not the case. I am likely never to have children, and it’s going to have to be ok.
I take comfort in being the crazy aunt, but even then it’s just not enough, and it’s rough. I can’t train those children. I can’t be the voice of authority even when I’m watching over them. I can’t say No, Don’t Do That!. Not and have them believe that I’d make real on my threats of I’ll call your parents.
I can’t even reprimand my nieces, either of them, for as soon as I do, the other starts crying, and I’m back into a land I can’t even begin to understand.
What’s more I miss my nephew. He’s been spending time with his other family in another state. My sister let him go on his birthday and that was almost a month ago. I’m used to him speaking to me every night, his mother will call and he will talk and tell me all about his day.
I’ve not had that in a month, and he will not be among the Easter brujaha because even if he ‘does’ come home this weekend, my sister is not ‘travelling’ and will be spending easter with her sister-in-law and nephew-in-law.
I’ve been sick this week, so I’m afraid I’ve been rather absent in my blog posts, and with fever and illness, and the lack of the kidlings around I’m running quite low on humor.
What is wrong with me? Why am i still single? Why is it everything I touch in my life turns to rubbish? My life time over, I’ve been fat, I’ve been thin.. And never am I pretty enough, nice enough, smart enough, dumb enough, thin enough, thick enough, right enough, wrong enough. I’m just not ever FUCKING ENOUGH.
At this point I’ll just bite the bullet and say It’s my fault. I’m the one to blame. I’m just not enough.