Ugh Just Ranting

Being the responsible parent all the time? Oh, what a freakin’ joy. I mean, who doesn’t love the thrill of being everything to everyone while the other parent just casually opts out of their duties like it’s a damn buffet where they only want to pick the dessert? Yeah, no thanks to my ex for leaving me holding the bag… and the kids, and the cooking, and the cleaning, and every other damn thing.

I’m not asking for much here, just that he, you know, parents once in a while. But no, he’s too busy playing at life, while I’m over here living it in full-on chaos mode. Just because we’re not together anymore doesn’t mean he gets to wash his hands of his responsibilities. Like, sorry, but the “we’re done” card doesn’t magically erase the fact that you helped make these kids. He needs to step up. But will he? Probably not. Hell, half the time I think it’d be easier to teach a rock how to parent.

And you know what’s even worse? I try to tell him it’s all gonna come back to bite him. Our daughter is five, and guess what? She already has this lovely, blossoming negative outlook toward him because, shocker, he’s not around enough. She’s smart. She sees it. And she doesn’t forget. I’ve told him that if he doesn’t start being present, he’s gonna wake up one day and wonder why she doesn’t want to be around him. But, sure, keep doing the bare minimum, buddy.

Meanwhile, what am I doing? Oh, just everything. Let’s run through the day, shall we? I’m working, cooking, cleaning, managing their schoolwork, wiping their tears, driving them everywhere, and juggling the rest of life’s BS. And, oh yeah, doing all that with no complaints, no thanks, and no freakin’ awards. Where’s my damn trophy? Honestly, sometimes I’d love to be able to just sit on my ass and do nothing. But, nope, I can’t because, surprise, everything would fall apart without me. Shocker, right?

I know I’ll get over it eventually and go back to my usual “I got this” self. I mean, I always do. But today? Yeah, I’m just gonna rant. Because honestly, some days are overwhelming as hell, and even though I’m tired, annoyed, and ready to kick someone’s ass, I know I love my kids to death. They see everything I do, every effort I put in, and I know they appreciate it in their own little ways. They look up to me, and that’s what keeps me going—knowing that, even when things are messy, they see me showing up.

But, seriously. If I had a nickel for every time I had to pick up his slack, I’d be sipping cocktails on a beach by now.