Countdown...

Dear Diary,

Can I just be honest for a minute? I mean brutally frank? Sometimes I can't wait until the day I can be grown in my own damn house! All the things I can do during the summer when my kids are away: walk around the house naked, drink until I'm staggering, smoke a joint, or have a one night stand with someone anonymous and sexy, come to a screeching halt once they are home. Now, I may not actually do any of those things while they are away, but if I wanted to, I would have to wait until their roving eyes were either closed, or far, far away. I think I am a little resentful, though I don't know why and feel guilty for feeling such rotten, unmotherly feelings. But damn. I can't find balance anywhere and that troubles me. I feel like I am not really myself, but pretending to be, acting as this Leave-It-To-Beaver ass mom that solves all problems, cooks homecooked meals, frowns at any and all indiscretions and stands diligently at my kids bedside while they say their prayers. The problem with that is, that persona directly conflicts with the me that will curse, wants to drink, get high or do something to relieve the pressure and anxiety that this life presents to me on a daily basis. I know if I did those things, my kids wouldn't respect me. Hell, I don't feel like they respect me now. They respect me as in they won't do or say certain things, but they don't respect my hustle or my sacrifices. They don't understand them yet, I know. But I'm a little salty today because my flesh is acting up. I don't want to be celibate anymore. I didn't choose to be celibate in the first place. It just kind of happened. Somewhere in between me getting my groove on and watching my kids grow, I realized I wanted them to have better relationships. Marriages as opposed to booty calls. Real love as opposed to lust. Commitment vs. Involvement.

So here I am. Counting down the days until I can be grown again. Walk naked and feel free to be me.




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First Day of School

Dear Diary,

Today I got up early so I could fix my kids breakfast before their first day of school. It is a nothing short of a miracle when I realize that I have 2 that are seniors this year and my baby girl is a sophomore. Normally, I have to pull them out of bed in the morning. Threaten at least twice before they actually get up and get moving. But not today. Today there was a different energy; almost an excitement, in the air. Before I could even finish cooking breakfast, my son was downstairs, fresh pressed, smelling all good. He is one that genuinely takes pride in his appearance. “Thank you, Mommy,” he said, as he fixed his plate and proceeded to eat it standing up in the kitchen. My pleasure, I thought to myself. Baby girl drifts down the stairs next. Most comfortable in jeans and tennis shoes, she reminds me of myself at her age. Not quite girly, but unable to be classified as a tomboy, I realize they are all slipping away from me very quickly. I can remember when she wouldn’t do more than pull her hair back into a sloppy ponytail and this morning she sports shiny lipgloss and has applied mascara that makes her beautiful almond shaped eyes almost jump out at me. The oldest makes her way down finally and once they have all eaten, they take pictures of one another; posing and showing of new clothes and new shoes. I decide then and there that we will document this year as much as possible in photos. Life as we all know it will change very soon. It is the oldest that tells the others how to pose, where to stand. She is so bossy and mother-like, I wonder what it will be like when she is out on her own and no longer such a driving force in our home. They are all taller than me now, with bigger breasts and bigger opinions. Where has all the time gone? It wasn’t so long ago that I had to pick their clothes out, comb their hair and make sure they had brushed their teeth and put deodorant under their arms. I used to think it was a chore, but now my heart aches for those moments when they really needed and depended on me because I know I won’t ever be able to go back. I guess I’m just missing them the way they used to be. Before they grew hair up under their arms. Before they started liking the opposite sex. Before they grew into little women and a little man. I guess I just miss them before they grew up.



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