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Bedoor Bluemoon

Everyday writing to expose the soul

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motherhood

Blink- A Mother’s Fear

Blink

blink

Don’t blink or you’ll miss it.  It seems like it was yesterday that I gave birth to my first born and just delivered my second this morning.  It seems like I was holding onto them in the hospital wondering how I can do this, how and when did I become a mom.  Cradling them in my arms and holding on tight in fear that I miss a blink.  Watching their face and lips and fingers and promising that I will always be there.

Then I blinked.

And here I am planning my first boy’s birthday party.  You see, he wants a pirate themed party because at four years of age he can talk and decide.  He comes to me with feelings and ideas and jokes and pranks.  Wasn’t he just my newborn?  Wasn’t I rocking him to sleep and trying to figure out how to put his diaper on?  Wasn’t I scared to give him a bath all by myself and felt that great achievement when I finally summed up the courage?  Where did that baby go?

Then I blinked.

And my second boy was walking and talking.  He’s a funny fellow who imitates everything he sees and loves to dance.  He too has things he likes and he too can decide whether he wants to go out or stay in (he always decides to go out of course.)  Where did my baby go?  Wasn’t I crying for fear of not being there for him, for fear of not giving him the care I gave his brother, the undivided attention and the hours spent alone?  When did he grow up and what did he eat?

And now I am too afraid to blink.

Too afraid to miss a milestone, too afraid to miss out on a smile or a tear.  I am too afraid to be unavailable, to not know what they feel or what they like.  I am too afraid to miss out on the hours of the days that make them happy, too afraid to have someone else influence them.  There’s so much to do and so little time.

How can I schedule music classes, self defense classes, homework, and fun time when they’re older?  It’s all fun time and I barely seem to be holding on to my sanity.  It’s all fun time and I miss them at the end of every single tiring day.

Oh yes, the days are long… sometimes much too long… much too tiresome but in the end they are limited.  Create memories one day at a time and honestly, try not to blink.

The Lost Boy

(writing prompt #304. https://purpldragon.wordpress.com/2017/09/14/writing-prompt-304/)

Source: Writing Prompt #304
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He watched through the window as his mother tucked his half-sister in bed and kiss his step father goodnight, then he turned and vanished into the night.  It was a daily ritual for Tom since he ran away from his father’s house six months ago.  His father was an alcoholic who, in his opinion, probably didn’t even realize he wasn’t around.  He was living bad days and worse nights when his father would come back from the bar and wake Tom up from his sleep just to start beating him.  One night, Tom decided it was enough, he was going to go live with his mother instead.

His mother always wanted him in her life.  She never gave him up, on the contrary she fought hard to gain custody of Tom but it was all because Tom’s dad knew how to best beat the system that she lost him.  She cried so hard knowing that her ex-husband didn’t really care about Tom, he only wanted to hurt her by taking him away.

That was five years ago.

Tom lived with his dad and was neglected from day one.  He was abused verbally all the time, listening to how he was the reason his parents got a divorce and why it would have been better if he were never born.  He went to school after he made his own breakfast, changed, and packed whatever junk was available at home.  The place was a mess and Tom tried to keep it clean as hard as any eight year old boy can.  He missed his mother.

Running away was the best thing he did.  It wasn’t like he was living in a better place but at least the homeless man had more paternal instincts and started sharing everything with him.  During the day, Tom would try to sell anything to get some money and buy some food to settle his rumbling stomach and share what little he has with the homeless man.

He wanted to go directly to his mother and that’s when his new habit started.  He reached her new home at seven p.m. one night and saw her new family gathered around the dinner table.  He could smell the roasted chicken but something in him stopped him from ringing the doorbell.  He didn’t want to ruin the beautiful picture with his dirty boots and jacket.  From then on, he continued to watch his mother live her life while he lived his.  She never saw him behind the bushes.

One day, Tom fell asleep watching his mother and step dad watching a movie.  He wanted to feel as if he were a part of her life again.  He sat down and watched from afar until his eyelids could no longer stay open.

He woke up the next morning indoors, on a bed, and with mother’s arms around him.  He knew her smell very well and couldn’t believe it.  He turned around and saw her smiling into his face.

“How long have you known that I’m watching?”

“Just last night.  Do you think I’d let you go if I ever found you?”

When on Vacation- Buy Lollipops

Lollipop

 

lollipop
I love traveling.  Who doesn’t, right?  There are many ways in which you can turn your travel experience to better or worse.  Obviously, you must research where you are going, what you’re going to do, and what your budget is.  Who you’re traveling with is very important too because you don’t want to end up stuck with that person you can’t handle for ten days straight, right?

Well, this is the first time I travel with both of my children.  One is three and a half years old and the other is almost a year old.  Things were great, I didn’t expect to have some alone time, nor did I expect to have any free time to shower but, all in all, we created good memories.

Things I learned in this trip could be written in a book but this is a post about lollipops.  Let’s go back to 2009 when I visited Scotland (swoon, sigh, and nostalgic music). I loved every second in Edinburgh and my husband and I would go to St. Giles cathedral and order from their great selection of tarts. I would walk by everyday and see these big pieces of fudge staring at me. I mean, they would look at me walk by, like the Mona Lisa, I tell you!  There was a specific light brown piece which would practically beg to be bought but I never did thinking I’d come back for it.

I never did. (Heartbreaking, tears flowing down my face)

Do you understand, I never did.  I never got that piece of fudge and since 2009 and I regret it everyday!  I never knew what it tasted like, never knew how it would or wouldn’t crumble on my tongue, and I would never know its flavor.

And why’s that? Because I postponed buying it until the day I would travel and to my surprise St. Giles was closed.

Fast forward to 2017. My husband and I were pushing our children in their strollers in the airport and my three year old passes by a big lollipop and says he wants it.

We were running late and my husband refused so we went on.  The light brown fudge popped into my mind and gave me a knowing look, I knew what I had to do.

I held my ground and told my husband that we must buy it or else (OK, not really, I just offered to pay for the overpriced candy) and he lovingly obliged.

We were very late, my husband was very angry, but I got my little boy his candy so it doesn’t haunt him (and me) for the next ten years.

When on vacation, buy your lollipop.

No Verbal Confirmation, Please

Verbal Confirmation

 

With children, you sometimes question your sanity.  If you were an outsider looking in, you will see the many repeated questions and the many ignored requests.  Let’s assume you want to ask your child what he would like to have for dinner.  You start by asking like a normal human being.

“What would you like for dinner?”

No answer.

You decide that maybe he didn’t hear you, so you raise your voice a notch.

“Hey, what would you like for dinner?”

Still nothing.

This may go on a few times before you realize that your child isn’t even looking in your direction, so you remember that you should probably try to grab his attention by gently putting your hand on him.  Finally, eye contact.  So you ask again, repeating the question using a normal volume then raising your voice a little bit.  He squirms away, you walk behind him strong, thinking that you’re the mom, you are putting the rules.  He’s not the boss of me, you say to yourself.  He runs, you walk a bit faster.  A few more minutes of this and it turns to a full on game of chase.

Who’s the boss now?

You throw your hands up shouting that this is not a game so your kid says fine but nothing else.  You ask again and get nothing.

You wonder next whether you need to be facing your child when asking so you try that.  It takes some effort but you finally have eye contact.  You look into his eyes and suddenly all his childhood years fly by but no!  You will not succumb to his cuteness.

So you ask, slowly and making sure to articulate each letter: “What would you want to have for dinner.”

It’s happening.  You have eye contact, you see that your kid is listening to you, and then the dreaded answer comes: “anything”.

Scoff, because making “anything” means he will eat “anything,” isn’t it?

With children, looking at the many times I ran around like a headless chicken I salute myself.  I salute myself for closing the door on my finger and for knocking my head into the cupboard for no reason, all in the same morning.  I salute you, mothers, for being able to decipher your child so that no verbal confirmation is needed, you only need to be there to read the clues.

So you end up making some pasta, knowing that he’d eat it… and he does.

Verbal confirmation is not for mothers, they are telepathic,

 

Too Much on YOUR Plate?

multitasking

A couple of weeks ago I met a young ambitious gentleman who was feeling anxious about starting a new job and complaining about how the 6 days a week/8 hours a day job will take him away from his passion in writing.  Take a moment to digest this: the 48 hour week will take him away from his passion.  Um, have you met mothers?

Mothers, God bless their souls, have the ability to juggle a million things a day.  They must be on call all day, everyday, regardless of what they are doing or what they would like to be doing.  They must be available for any kind of emergency ranging from a sudden hunger pang at 4 a.m. to a temper tantrum in the middle of a family gathering.  On call ALL the time.  So when a mother chooses to spend the last few hours of her day in exercising, reading, chatting with her friends, staring into nothingness, and living her life just a little bit then she is compromising actual sleep time for the sake of life.  Please let her do what she wants.

Life, as you know it, is different with mothers.

I read once that a mother is living proof that human beings don’t need actual sleep and can live on coffee.  I cannot be held accountable for the seriousness of this point but it makes sense to me.  It all comes down to choice:  would you rather sleep or would you rather feel like a person?

You see, regardless of common belief, mothers are normal human beings with hopes and dreams.  They realize that they should exercise, have friends, and go out but sometimes they are not in a position to do so.  Sometimes, life has to be put on hold for a couple of years to enable the caring of a baby and thus ensure the continuity of humankind.  Yes, I am trying to sugarcoat the first few months of a baby’s life just to reassure myself that there is light at the end of the tunnel and honestly, I have seen it before.  It takes almost a year for the phoenix to raise from the ashes.

But it’s that first year that tests what a woman is made of.  How agile she is, what are her goals in life, how she thinks children must be raised, and what comes first in her list of priorities.  Many women choose to put themselves first and foremost and I have the greatest respect for them because I believe in the freedom of choice.  Do I support it?  Does it matter?  I’ve heard a blogger I highly respect repeat that women need to stop putting each other down when it comes to motherhood because each and everyone of us is doing her best as she sees fitting to her lifestyle.  I would really like to believe that all women love their children regardless of how naive it makes me sound.  Knowing that the most sincere and pure kind of love is emitted from every mother is a very calming notion and I choose to cherish it with all my heart.  (tangent, I know).

Back to the chaos behind the love and the background mechanisms working to maintain the family life.  Let’s compare a man’s morning and a mother’s morning.

Man

It’s 7 a.m. and the man is fast asleep.  He hears the soft jingle of the alarm from yonder and quietly opens his eyes, his hand reaches for his phone and automatically snoozes the alarm, getting extra minutes of sleep after deciding that he is too tired from the day before.

Mother

It’s 6 a.m., there is no alarm clock because the mother is relying on her biological clock and/or her children to wake her up.  She wakes up on a wailing child ranting about something that just doesn’t make sense.  The mother wishes to put the child on “snooze” but sadly children don’t come with a snooze button.  So the mother burpees her way out of bed to quiet the baby down.  In the meantime, all other children wake up and start talking at the same time.  Noise takes its form of insanity and the woman tries hard to maintain a smile on her face.

Mothers fight through the pain of sleeplessness, the pain of not being appreciated, and the pain of not knowing when her next shower is.  This is not a joke, showers genuinely make people feel better.  They fight through the screams, fight through not being respected and listened to, and fight through the physical exhaustion.  True fighters, mothers still manage to fill their plate with ways to prove herself independent and amazing to act as a role model for her children.  In the 24 hours a day, mothers manage to cram extra hours to give even more to her family.

So with the nearing of a new year, all mothers will consciously decide to take it easy while their subconsciousness will stand proud, chest puffed and ready for more responsibilities, more obligations, and more love.

Grabbing life by the horns.

Bring it on.

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