Sliding
When I was a little girl I swore I would never be like my mother. Without inadvertently throwing myself the proverbial pity party- suffice it to say she was a bat-shit crazy bitch. Over the four plus decades of my life I've done my best to hang on to my sanity lest I succumb to the suckfest that seems to be my maternal genetic gift. Apart from the fiasco that was my first marriage, I think I've managed to dodge that bullet--until now. My daughter is 15. She, along with her 17 year old special needs brother, is the only meaningful and positive thing to come out of said marriage. Really, I suppose just acknowledging that I am trying to raise a perpetually PMS'ing girl and a rigid, socially awkward boy may give me the reassurance I need that if my cheese is only now attempting to slide off my cracker-I haven't done a half bad job of keeping it together. I'm struggling right now. Both mentally and physically. I'm not really sure what my main problem is but