Today, I abandoned my child.

I feel like I’m at Alcoholics Anonymous.

It has been 3 hours and 39 minutes since I billigparajumperno last abandoned my child and I am going to rot in hell.

Really, I am.

Don’t try and make me feel better about it.  Abandonment is abadonment no matter how hard I try and tell myself I really needed to do this one thing for ME.  To feel like I have a life that is seperate from my youngins. Why am I speaking this way? Who am I, the mother of the Walton kids.  Surely not.  I don’t remember her ever missing her kids softball game.

I told myself it’ll be okay, it’s just ONE game.

My husband looked at me sideways but didn’t say a word. He was judging me.  I know he was. “Don’t go,” his eyes whispered.  And my eyes screamed back, “Screw you.” Not very nice, I know. I told you, I’m awful.  Just awful.

My OWN mother told me to miss Bella’s game, and do something for myself urging, “Yes, Nicole.  It’ll be fine.  Bella will understand.  You should do this one thing for yourself.  You have to follow your own passions too.”

That lady is usually right.

But this time she was wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong.

Bella needed me there to yell, and holler, and cheer. 

But my selfish ego led me wayward, not just removing myself but also her 3 sisters from her cheering corner and dropping them off at Grammi’s house to make the evening more convenient for selfish me.

I totally suck.

She had her Dad with her though.  Ever faithful perfect father.  Bight me, please.

But even his presence didn’t stop her from striking out. Nope.

And that didn’t stop her from beating herself up about it. Crud.

And that didn’t stop her from grumbling all the way home about her poor performance.  And also about the pitchers sad pitiful too slow pitches, because it wouldn’t be my Bells if she didn’t atleast blame it a little on someone else.

I wish I had been there to tell her it’s okay.

To give her a kiss when the tears started to fall.

To pat her on the back and tell her nobody is perfect all the time.

That we’ll keep practing and practicing because that’s what all great athlete’s do.  Because nobody starts off great.

But I couldn’t tell her one single word.  Because when I came home she was
billigparajumperno.com already asleep. 

And just to make a bad story worse,  I went up to her room and kissed her and told her I loved her while she was sleeping.  She didn’t stir, so I kissed her harder and turned her head.  Not a peap.  I shook her, and loudly whisper/screamed her name, trying to wake her up so that I could tell her I was sorry and make myself feel better even though she was fast asleep. 

She didn’t even bat an eyelash. So I got mad and cursed under my breadth.

I’m such a bad mother.

– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – — – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – — – – – – – –

Sour Grapes.

Got ’em.

No use in lamenting over passed mistakes.  I’ll just stick to that kid like glue until she goes to college.  Maybe even a few years longer.

I wanted to go back for my Masters anyway.

Maybe I’ll make this for our late night study sessions.

Or when we party all night long in the dorm room.

Or when she comes home from school, cause there’s no way she’s ever letting me go to college with her. No matter how sweet she is now.

Well. . .maybe.  After she tastes how good sour grapes can be.. . . .

Grape Salad with Brown Sugared Pecans and Yogurt
adapted from All Recipes
Ingredients:

1 1/2 lbs. green grapes, washed, dried and halved
4 oz. vanilla yogurt
2 oz. of light cream cheese, softened
2 TB of granulated sugar
1 tsp vanilla extract

Topping:

2 tbsp brown sugar, packed
1/2 cup chopped pecans

Directions:

1. In a large bowl, whisk together yogurt, cream cheese, sugar and vanilla.  Continute to mix until smooth. Add grapes, and stir to coat. Pour into a serving dish.
2. In a smaller bowl, combine pecans and brown sugar. Sprinkle on top of salad in serving dish.  Cover and refrigerate until ready to serve.