I’ve been a real dick lately. I admit it. So shut up about it.
A couple of posts ago I got all emo and blamed it on the rain and thought it would be a good idea to be as honest as possible and post it on the internet for all the world to see. Mostly I complained about being bored, and then I admit that I had been a real asshole to Deven and even said that I sometimes resent him.
I know I have said in the past that being a wife is harder than being a mother, but motherhood is still fucking hard. Throw me a bone here.
I have been reading about Maddie Spohr who passed away suddenly on April 7. Now that the traffic on their site has died down, I am able to actually read some of the posts. At first I couldn’t read the posts about Maddie without getting this horrible sinking feeling in my stomach, like if I didn’t cry hysterically right that instant, my emotions were going to eject themselves by way of my stomach. I admire Heather and Mike’s strength, and how they are able to go on writing about it on their blogs, I don’t know. Maybe it helps them cope.
Every time I read through their posts, it always gets to a point to where the sadness is overwhelming and I have to turn to my own little mobile ball of destruction and stop him in the middle of whatever he is doing and hug the crap out of him. He protests rigorously because, hello, I just interrupted him in the middle of emptying the bookcase onto the floor and if he doesn’t finish then someone is going to put them all back on the bookcase and all of this will have just been a WASTE OF TIME. But it needs to be done. It should be done just about 20 times a day. The hugs, not emptying of the bookcase.
Sometimes I have bad days where I just want to run away, or at the very least spend the day in bed, where all it seems Deven is doing is misbehaving and driving me insane. Some Days I feel like I am not cut out for being a mom because I can’t handle my kid being a kid and doing kid things. This whole ECI thing has been a huge stress because I feel like there must be something I am doing wrong and I don’t know what that could be, all I know is my kid isn’t talking and it must be my fault. I am the only person he is around.
Those days I fail to see how beautiful Deven’s smile is, how funny his little chuckle is, how fun it is to watch him dance, and how I love to hear him laugh hysterically when I tickle him. I don’t want to take for granted how beautiful, and healthy, and smart he is. And that he’s MINE. I don’t want to forget how badly I wanted him and how much more complete I feel with him here. Those things are the anecdote for those horrible days, and I should strive to see through the fog from my frustration and tears and find them. And take videos of them. I must take more videos. When he is 12 and out slashing tires and stealing roadsigns, I am really going to appreciate how cute he was.
I used to not be this emotional over things. My mother’s death was probably the only time I was ever really able to show my emotions, and boy did I. Everyday for weeks it was like an avalanche of sobs and tears coming down upon the heads of anyone who was around me. After that I clammed right back up again. It’s only since I had Deven that I can allow myself to be vulnerable and show it on a regular basis. I guess it’s all that damn love boiling my cockles to the point of overflow.
It sucks that it takes the courage of a mother grieving for her beautiful daughter for us to appreciate what we have.
Deven maybe a little turd some times, but he is my turd, and I couldn’t go on without him.
It’s so funny how every time you point a camera in his face, he smiles. He knows whats up.