Previously on The Trailer
Embarrassment
I’m embarrassed for my kids to have friends over. I don’t want to host things like play dates or parties. I drop my kids off in nice, middle class neighborhoods to hang out with their friends and am horrified when those parents drop their kids off at my house, afraid of what they’ll think. (Hi my name is Jessica and I’m a people-pleaser with low self-esteem.)
Quality of life
Sure, part of it is vanity but part of it is the toll it takes on you to live in shitty conditions. When you’re constantly battling things like roaches and mice. And don’t get me started on how we can’t keep squirrels out of our ceiling and how they almost drove us INSANE last winter. No hyperbole. And then. AND THEN. As if them eating parts of your house DIRECTLY ABOVE YOUR BED WHILE YOU’RE TRYING TO SLEEP isn’t bad enough, one of those little fuckers dies up there and your son’s room smells like rotting squirrel carcass for weeks.
When yet another thing breaks and it’s the last straw and you find yourself saying too often, “so I guess we live like this now”. Maybe later I’ll tell you the story about the shower knob breaking off in my hand and the ensuing emotional crisis.
Guilt
I’m ashamed of my house and often times it feels like living in a third world country (actually, our quality of life was way better when we lived in a third world country). But also I have so much mom guilt over the whole sitch.
This is my daughter’s high school experience. Sharing a tiny, shitty room with her teenage brother. Said brother waking up every morning and getting dressed in the bathroom because of the awkward shared space. If my daughter wants to have a friend sleep over, my teenage son has to sleep in the floor of his little brothers’ equally tiny room.
My daughter has had multiple friends tell her that they think our house is gross. I know I’m not the best housekeeper but you can’t polish a turd. You can’t – polish – a turd. All the elbow grease in the world doesn’t change the fact that we live in a glorified cardboard box (that, by the way, we’re constantly worried will burn down).
Comparison is the thief of yadda yadda
It’s just damn near impossible to not be jealous or feel bad about your situation when you hop on social media and see all the normals in their insta-worthy “real” houses. I know just because you have drywall doesn’t mean you don’t have real problems. I know that! Still. If I had a choice, I’d like to have my marital issues and mounting debt in a spacious 4 bedroom with a nice, deep tub and maybe a den for the kids.
By the way, there are certain TV shows that give me LIFE on this issue. Like Speechless. Oh my gosh. It’s a good show anyway but HELLO they’re living in a shitty rental for their son to go to a certain school and their teenage son and daughter share a room. I spend more time looking at the background than at the characters. These are my fictional people.
Honorable mention: Roseanne, Shameless, My Name is Earl.
Maybe I’ll shut up now
Please, for the love of all that is good and HGTVy, don’t respond with any Christian platitudes to my griping and complaining. I am well aware that like, young children are victims of sex trafficking in lots of somewheres and millions of people have it worse than I do.
But those people don’t own this blog. Hi my name is Jessica, and I these are my feelings.
