I’m Not Your Mother

…unless you’re one of my children and reading this

You are also not my parent.

…unless you are my mother and reading this

Sometimes I wonder if you are my friend.

…unless you are reading this, because my friends read my blog

It amazes me how one person can jump into and out of, and then into another ‘role’ so quickly.

I don’t want to be anyone else’s mother. I have four children. I am their mother. No one else’s.

I also don’t want to adopt a grown person.

You are also not my parent.

I don’t need to be told what to do, what I need to be doing and what I should have done.

You want me as a friend but you don’t listen to anything I have to say. If I have a problem, you interrupt me with a problem you’re facing that is oh so much bigger and badder than mine. Thanks.

You ask how my day was, and if it is any answer other than “it was good” then off you go again. Parenting me, needing me to placate you, or just talking down to me like I am ungrateful for anything I have going for me.

Heaven forbid I ask about your day because either it is none of my business or I get an earful of grief, woe and drama.

Again, thanks.

So…I don’t talk to you often. I honestly don’t know the right thing to say at any given point in our encounters.

Then you wonder why I don’t talk to you very often.

I need a new roommate!