Motherhood is so strange. It is something I never pictured myself doing. I am selfish, I have always known this, and I felt I had a right to be and stay that way. I had a chaotic childhood, I became a chaotic human, and I just wanted to do my best to take care of and look out for myself.
But that isn't what happened.
I got not one kid, but two.
What in the world was I to do?
I will speak more about navigating motherhood at different stages on this blog as i start to find my voice and my rhythm and discover the type of story teller i want to be, but for now, i just wanted to remember the exact motherhood moment I am in, as it is happening.
I do not have much and I go without a lot. I buy myself small things like shoes and coffee often, but big things like a nice house or a nice care, I forgo. I currently have a tiny apartment, one bedroom, that we spend a bit of time in together, when we aren't at their dad's in his amazing backyard swimming in the pool. When they stay with me, I sleep on the couch. I am not a very materialistic person, but I am also just a human, and I, myself, prefer to be at their dad's nice house, and I would never blame them for choosing that over what I have.
After all, I grew up not having much myself. We were on government assisted everything really, and we lived in a two bedroom, single wide trailer that was falling apart. Parts of the floor was caving in, snakes used to make their homes under the floor and I used to have nightmares that the babies would crawl up through the floor, bug were plentiful. Over time, my life improved as my mother got better jobs and worked hard to finish college. She moved us into apartments, into nicer school districts and eventually into a house of our own. It is the trailer though that I remember the best. It was where we were the happiest. My mother gave up having her own room so my sister and I could have our own. We had beds, while she slept on the couch.
I can be proud of where I came from now, but I would be lying if I still didn't feel a tad bit embarrassed or ashamed? I can't quite name the feeling, but it is there none the less. So, when my kids begged me all week long to stay at my house with me...I was confused. Why on earth would they want to stay with me in my tiny house with one box of toys and not much room?
I had a very hectic, busy work week this week, plus my house is a wreck, so I told them to wait until the weekend and then they could stay with me. They are here now. As soon as we arrived here, they helped me carry things up the stairs, took their shoes off by the door, and then I expected them to run to the bedroom and start playing video games, which they did...but only for about 10 minutes or so, before they were back in here with me, asking questions, telling me about their day, and just hanging out. They even wanted to know what I was working on.
Then, about 5 minutes after they both curled up beside me on the couch, I heard their sleep breathing. Sleep breathing that only I and maybe their dad could recognize. I know what my sleeping babies sound like.
Why would they want to stay with me?
Because they love me.
Because I am their mom.
Because they miss me like I miss them.
They are turning into little people more and more each day, people that I enjoy. We have gone through a lot together, and more is still to come, but we have love. We have so much love. I am still selfish, and I believe every human on earth is, but I would face down the entire world to care for these boys, to love them well, to ease their suffering in any small way.
I am so glad I am their mother.
A few other things they really like to do right now...
- watch me put on make up and help me pick my lipstick color
- Jack likes to make me food and build me things out of legos for me to take to work
- Sam likes to look at glasses online and dream about his next pair
-both love to swim