Sunday, February 28, 2010

When Nothing Makes Sense

It is 12:45am and 5 of 6 are vomiting, well, 4 of 6. One is suffering from a problem a bit lower in the digestive system. I'm tired but I dare not sleep. I look at the one who hasn't vomited and wonder when she will start. What to do? Crochet? Read? Look for my dream job? I can't even find words...

Friday, February 26, 2010

Between Worlds

I have for the first time truly had the blessing of watching my my child take his first steps. But he is not my only child. My excitement is exceeded only by his as he clumsily but with unparalleled determination explores the house and carries shoes and sundry articles from one area to the next tasting them along the way lest he miss out on a potential meal. Weeks have passed and though the floor still often meets with his backside he spend most of his time on his feet. No matter how many children one has these moments never cease to be miraculous.


I cannot become a burden to another so I must soon look for work and take on all of the challenges of being a working single mother again. Worrying about the quality of daycare centers, worrying about paying them and still feeding the children, worrying about balancing the role of employee and of mother and feeling guilty when there is just not enough of you to go around is the lot of the single mother.

This for me has been a role of self deception. For the sake of sanity I cannot look at the whole picture for I then have to face the impossibility of it all. I handle only the moment. I wake up, stumble through my day hoping that what feels like failure to me doesn't appear as such. After a day of go, I find myself in bed and the loneliness sets in and I try to banish the bitterness with a prayer thanking God for all that didn't go wrong in the day. It is an empty, sad, and largely barren existence going through each day knowing that things MUST change and not having any idea how. ... at yet knowing that they had to because you were breaking. From sunup to sunset I am mother, a role that is all give and no take. If there were the means to be woman there would not be the time but as that part of me starves I die a bit every day.

I have died a bit everyday for so long that I don't know how to heal how to find myself, to create something that will be me. I have decided that I should no longer look longingly back because life is passing me by. The adventures of yesterday contributed to who I might have been but can only truly be lived once. I need a new adventure. One slice of the pie MUST be for me.

Between woman and mother there is a space. It is thick with regret and longing and while one inhabits that space they are nothing, neither woman nor mother but with all of the heartache of both.

Monday, February 22, 2010

Finding the Time

It is 1:24am and the children are asleep. I would be tired but I drank a cup of tea to be able to write. I am healing. I lost my voice when I met my husband and now that he is gone I feel that I should be able to get it back. So I start by expressing myself. There are times during the day that I am truly inspired but those times come when my hands are full and my chores aren't finished.

I just had a discussion with someone who would lift me up. That is someone who tries. You see he says to me that I am wonderful for raising my children and not abandoning them, for perservering. I stare blankly because for all of the options that I have that is not one of them and it doesn't make me wonderful. I spend my days worrying that I am doing all of this wrong. I feel guilty when I don't feel like giving hugs and when I didn't give the homework another look before I told them to put it in their bookbags. I feel guilty when they eat Ramen Noodles or even when they eat white bread. I feel guilty when days have gone by and we haven't really talked. And then there are the days when they are fighting that I know that I have failed them. When I think about it, I know what it is that they need. I am simply not always sure where to find it. I have long felt that a person must be loved to love properly.

When I think of a family I think of a perfectly balanced scale. ... but when I get the kids to bed I lie down and think of my husband and miss him so deeply. I miss feeling him at my back. I miss his voice. I miss sitting on the porch and drinking tea while he smoked. I often feel selfish but deep down inside there is a little voice screaming, "What about me?" .

I went to the home of the most amazing family the other day and left feeling so defeated. How are my children going to turn out and what could I have done to make them perfect? 'sigh' My writing here is a bit like my day, it meanders. What about me? I didn't think much today about how to be better than yesterday. Today I thought about how to make it to tomorrow. I wondered what to replace my husband's memory with.