Being Mommy...

“Mommy!”

This call awakens me from a dead sleep. One of those sleeps where you are pretty sure you were skirting the edges of oblivion, you were that far gone.

Yet I’m pulled back. This tiny voice, yelling from down the hallway, can bring me back from anywhere. It’s a part of being Mommy, I guess. I haven’t quite figured it out yet.

So now I’m up. I’m bouncing off of doorways and ricocheting into the wall. Staggering around like a drunk after a long night of swilling booze in the corner of a dark, stale bar. Bleary-eyed and still sweeping the cloying dreams away from my mind, I stand above my baby.

It could be my Grabby; tiny and curled into a ball looking for her comforter and her blankie and her puppy and her sippy cup all at the same time. It could be my Screech; doing exactly that, torn from sleep by a nightmare and sitting straight up in bed pointing at the corner that I just entered the room from and screaming for me. I think his nightmares terrorize us both equally. It could be my Noggin; who rarely wakes in the night but when he does you can guarantee that there is either a fever to attend to or vomit everywhere.

Amazingly enough I can go from a sound sleep to wide awake in just a few moments when there is trouble brewing. When sickness makes every breath they take a struggle, I’m there by their bedside in the middle of the night with the nebulizer and a half dozen little vials of medication. I’ve gotten so good at this that I can tell them apart by shape and size. I can practically read the writing imprinted on them like its Braille, rubbing a finger down each one to pick the one with the least writing for my girl and the two with the most writing for my boys. The stop sign shaped one for my little twin and the long thin tube for his brother.

When it is a nightmare that has them calling out to me in the dark, I am there in milliseconds. I throw back the covers and leap toys and randomly misplaced socks while keeping from slipping on the hardwood in my socks so that I can quickly wrap my arms around a scared child. Sometimes just having me there is enough to quiet the yells. Other times there are tears and a half hour of rocking back and forth at the foot of the bed. Either way, I’m there. I’m present and I’m on high alert.

I can remember nights of barely being there. Nights where I was so tired that it took everything I had just to get up and find my way to the kitchen with my eyes closed to mix a bottle for one of my boys. Nights where I would pick my girl up from her crib, carry her to my bed, sit down and get her situated to eat, then fall asleep before she had finished on one breast. She would wake me fussing because she had emptied me and was ready to be switched over. I would trade arms, snuggle her close and fall asleep again, waking up hours later with her still snuggled against me using my breast as a pillow.

I remember nights of crying while trying to get my little ones to sleep because I was so damn tired I could barely stand it. After a night like that, I would call my mom the next day and beg for some relief. A few hours of sleep during the day when you are so tired you can barely function can save your life. I’m pretty sure my mom saved mine more than once.

But here I am. I’m still being Mommy. I’m working full-time to keep a roof over our heads and groceries in the house. I’m the only one getting up in the middle of the night for the high-pitched wake up calls. I’m divorced now. I’m also the one putting the needs of my children first. I’m the one with my heart on my sleeve because sometimes keeping it in my chest is impossible.

I’m Mommy. And I’m rocking that title for all it’s worth. Trust me when I say, it’s worth a hell of a lot.

Awash with words...

This woman...This beautiful woman.

Kelly at Ordinary Art

She makes me want to wash my face every morning with her words.

Go read her. Discover the beauty in every thing.

My favorite band...

You were standing in the wake of devastation

You were waiting on the edge of the unknown

With the cataclysm raining down

Your insides crying, "Save me now"

You were there, impossibly alone.

Do you feel cold and lost in desperation?

You build up hope, but failure’s all you've known.

Remember all the sadness and frustration

And let it go.

Let it go.

And in a burst of light that blinded every angel

As if the sky had blown the heavens into stars

You felt the gravity of tempered grace

Falling into empty space

With no one there to catch you in their arms.

Do you feel cold and lost in desperation?

You build up hope, but failure’s all you've known.

Remember all the sadness and frustration

And let it go.

Let it go.

(Instrumental Break)

Do you feel cold and lost in desperation?

You build up hope, but failure’s all you've known.

Remember all the sadness and frustration

And let it go.

Let it go.

Let it go.

Let it go.

Let it go.

Let it go.

Do you feel cold and lost in desperation?

You build up hope, but failure's all you've known.

Remember all the sadness and frustration

And let it go.

Let it go.

-Linkin Park-Iridescent-

Folding in upon myself...

A little stressed...

I’m stressed. I’ll admit it. I’ll own up to it. I’ll even tell others about it.

It doesn’t help. I’m still stressed and it’s not getting much better. I see it every day. I have no patience anymore. I fuss at the kids over stuff that if I had half a lick of sense, I wouldn’t be fussing about. I seem to be wearing my constantly frustrated look. Frown, furrowed brow, tensed shoulders, clothes that just don’t seem to fit right.

I’m grouchy. No amount of sleep seems to help either. I can sleep well through the night and get a good 2 hour nap the next day as the kids nap and I’m still a pain in my own ass.

I know why I’m stressed. I have an asshole for an ex-husband and he’s doing everything he possibly can to bring some measure of pain into my life. This time, he moved over 2.5 hours away across a bunch of mountain roads. He didn’t tell me he was moving like he is court-ordered to do. He didn’t tell the kids he was moving again. They have no clue that their sperm donor dad moved even further away from them and didn’t tell them. He complained about driving 30 minutes to pick them up from daycare for visitation. What is supposed to make me think that he’s going to bother seeing them much at all now?

He hasn’t seen them in over 5 weeks. He’s skipped 2 weekend visitations, the first with a lame excuse to cover the fact that he was moving and wasn’t going to tell me, the second because he claimed he wasn’t ready to get them because he had to get things set up in his new house. I’m not figuring he will see them this weekend either. I’m guessing that he will bail and find some excuse to not see them or he will call and try to rearrange the visitation so the he’s bringing them back sooner. I’m not holding out any hope that he will get them at all though.

I’m trying to figure out how I’m supposed to explain all this to the kids. They are still tiny but one day they will ask me why he doesn’t see them. Damn him for putting me in this position. Damn him straight to hell for being such a piece of shit. I’ve only hated one other person in my life as bad as I hate him and he was responsible for the death of my little brother. That’s saying something. Let’s just say I wouldn’t hit my brakes if he stepped off the curb in front of me right now. I might even hit the gas.

So, I’m not myself. I’m not the person I want to be right now. I hate that I’ve let him turn me into something ugly. I hate that he has that power.

Well, fuck him. I’m going to try harder to put on my happy face and he can go jump in a volcano.

Naked before you...

I leave myself vulnerable before you. Naked. Legs trembling, breathing unsteady. I open my mouth to speak but you silence me with a look that speaks a million words.

I can’t take it any longer so I turn away only to be met with your hand, soft upon my cheek. A touch too gentle to disregard, I press my face against your palm, close my eyes, breathe out in a quiet decompression. Relax.

My senses return in a rush and I freeze like a rabbit when it smells danger. Muscles tense and I draw in upon myself. You pull me back to you, your voice deep and soothing, simply speaking my name. It sounds safe in your mouth.

How did I get here? This place where you have me at my most accessible but yet also at my most guarded, my walls raised like armor to a soldier. There are so many things left to be said but in this moment, they don’t matter. Your skin against mine says all I need to feel.

But there’s more. There’s always more. The sacrifice I make is great and you seem to know that but you don’t press it. It’s not an issue to you. It’s expected. Required. Demanded.

You make your own sacrifice in admitting to wanting this as bad as I do. This connection, both physical and other worldly. Nothing had to be said. Your thoughts paralleled my own as I moved tentatively forward.

Not to be seen as hesitant, you drag me to you. Press me against your chest and breathe out into my hair. Slipping your arms around me as if they’ve belonged there for all time, you hold me tightly.

I cave in, fall into you and accept the comfort you offer. After all, it’s only a shoulder to cry on, isn’t it?