nixtress's Diaryland Diary

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Hidden bruises

Well.
Wednesday, for the most part, was kind to me.
I accomplished the things I wanted to, got my walk in despite the snow and cold and even managed to bake a loaf of cinnamon bread for the boys. The boys' Derby cars are formed and Ryan was successfully signed up for wrestling.
This evening was a little rocky but that was my own fault.
I never thought I'd be a mom to boys without a dad around for them. That was never my plan.
I tried with everything in me to keep a really bad relationship together because I felt it was important for boys to have a dad in their lives (in my eyes, 6 of one, half a dozen of another---which was worse? No dad or a half-assed dad?). That, apparently, didn't work.
Here I am, halfway to their adulthood, and I'm still depending on men like my uncle to stand in as role models for them in the "dad" department.
I never wanted this for them. If someone had told me that my choices would bring this for them, I'd have changed my choices.
As good as my uncles have been with my boys, they aren't a father. And I hate that.
However, there was a point in my life where I was told that if a man showed interest in me, I should snap him up because I would be lucky to find someone willing to take us all on. I can't stomach that either.
If a man isn't capable of looking at my boys and loving them as much as I do, then I don't want that kind of man.
Obviously, I haven't yet come across a man who can do that.
It's times like tonight that I realize I still have bruises.
I hate that my choices had this sort of impact on their lives.
Now, maybe, when they're grown they'll be even better fathers themselves because of it. Maybe they won't blame me as much as I blame myself. Maybe I'll have set enough positive male role models in their lives that they won't miss it as much as I think they might.
Maybe, someday, someone will love me enough to love them too and will see what a gift they are.
Or maybe I'm just meant to do this on my own and that reason will make itself apparent some day.
Maybe I'm supposed to be the one to see them thru baseball and Scouts and wrestling. Maybe that's MY gift, the sole receiver of their experiences, their past and the guidance of their future. That's a whole lotta maybes.
Sometimes, selfishly, I wish there were someone to share that responsibility with me. Sometimes, it's more than I think I can bear, this charge of raising boys to men. And then I remember that I'm bigger, better, stronger than I think I am and that even on my worst days, I'm 100% a better parent than my own mother was.
I'm reminded that showing them that I'm human is perhaps the best lesson ever and that my intentions for them will shine through.
And I have to accept that I do make mistakes and I have to make the best of them.
My sons weren't mistakes. The choice of sperm donor might have been but
my joy in raising my sweet, blonde boys will never be.
I just wish I could have given them just a little more.
Happy Wednesday.
N.

8:44 p.m. - 2007-01-10

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