It's been a while since I've had a real blog post. I blame Tuesday 10 for that.
It's just so easy to make a list of 10 things and call it a day. It's spoiling me. I need to have real blog posts y'all. Real blog posts are good for my soul. They are therapy. Is it weird that I'm my own best therapy? It's a lot cheaper. And on my own time. I think I win here.
So this real blog post. It's been sitting in my head for a while. Actually, several different blog posts have been sitting in my head for weeks now, I just can't get them out. I try, but a couple sentences is all that happens. Sounds so awesome in my head, looks like shit on paper. Blogger fail.
I'm willing to give it a good ole' college try.
Having a child has to be the epitome of what they call bittersweet.
At the moment you just can.not take anymore, you just can.not handle one more sippy cup and one more goldfish crumb in the floorboard of your car, you just can.not handle one more night of fighting with pajamas and crying, you just can.not handle having to share your shower with toys that don't belong in the shower and a two year old who insists mommy can't shower by herself, when you feel like you just can.not do all the things by yourself anymore, grandparents and friends swoop in and offer to help. Sweet. Help is oh so sweet.
You think, I'll be kid free for a few days and angels will sing. You drop your kid off and wait to hear the angels, instead you just feel tears coming on. TEARS? Tears! "What are you doing here, tears? What if something happens to him while I'm gone? What if he wakes up in the middle of the night and just needs mommy? What if he thinks I've left him forever. Oh my god, all these security things we've been working on, what if I just threw them out the window? What if I'm just being selfish by needing a break? Maybe I should turn around and just take him back with me." Bitter.
The insecurities eventually leave. The angels do start to sing. You enjoy the quietness. You tell yourself to clean out your car but then sitting on the couch sounds much better. You drink wine and eat chocolate. You take a shower without company. You sleep in a bed all to yourself and it's amazing. You get ready for work in peace, you even have time to put on eyeshadow and wear jewelry. Sweet.
By the second evening home alone, you start being unsure of what you should do with yourself. Doing laundry seems lame and cooking for one is over-rated. There are no angels singing and Thomas the Train is staring back at you as he sits on the coffee table, right where he was left.
That Thomas the Train, you've really gotta be careful with him. He's one tricky bastard. He'll suck you in.
You end up having too much time to think and you realize what life is really like now. It's like a punch in the face. A really hard punch. What if you had been left with no one? What if you didn't have sippy cups in your car? What if you didn't have monster trucks and trains in the shower? What if you didn't have him? All those nights you both went to bed crying because you were both unsure if you could do this whole single-widowed-mom thing, now seems a lot better than this night alone. "My God, what if I didn't have his love to fill my heart everyday?" Bitter.
The end of the work day finally comes and it's time to see your little man. You're excited. You think about all the things you'll ask him about his time away. Did you have fun? What did you play with? Did you miss me? Are you ready to go home and see Bawlly? You'll have a million questions for the grandparents. How did he sleep? Did he behave? Did he eat? Has he pooped? You turn into that mom.
You get out of the car and you can hear him say, "MOMMY!!" As soon as you pick him up he says, "Oh! I wike your boots, you wook pretty momma." Sweet.
Life is sweet again. I suppose life will always be a little bittersweet but mostly sweet because I wasn't left alone, and for that, I'm thankful for sippy cups, goldfish, monster trucks and even Thomas.