Energizer Bunny? Not so Much

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I managed to have my children nine years apart. Everyone said it was crazy. I enjoyed it. While the eldest was in school, I got to have one on one with the baby. Looking back, it was wonderful. Wouldn't change it for the world. 

But now, as a middle-aged mom, I deal with a sense of guilt. I always wonder if my second child was robbed of things I did with her brother. I was twenty when I had him. We did everything together.... I was still young and energetic. Fast forward, today I am not. Divorced and with today's recession and economic crisis, I work full time. I'm not the young, new mother with all the energy and time of the Energizer Bunny. Throw in a lazy thyroid, and fibromyalgia, and some days I'm slower than the molasses escaping from the mason jar. 

My daughter is amazing. Vibrant and full of electricity, fueled by sass. I know she was to young to look back and remember the days when I could run around the track cheering her brother on as he fought to cross the finish line first. But I'm not too old to remember, and some days, it makes me just want to cry. 

I can't be the only middle-aged mom who deals with this. It should have a name. We should start a club. Meet once a week for support. {We could meet on face time, so we didn't have to feel responsible to put jeans on and actually GO, lol} But then, of course, I'd feel guilty for using that time for ME, instead of her. Even though she is in her room, music vibrating the windows, and 4 other voices emanating from her phone speaker. I at least know that I am sitting on my couch crocheting a blanket, ready for some one on one with her when she is ready. If I haven't fallen asleep while waiting. 

Does she stay in her room because somewhere, subconsciously, she remembers that volleyball tournament in grade school that I just could not pull myself together for in order to attend? Or is it the lunch date I had to call off, because of a brain splitting headache? The Valentine Party in the 2nd grade that I couldn't take off work for? So many options, leading to one question. Did I disappoint her? Just to type it breaks my heart. 

Tell me I'm not the only one. Tell me someone else had to send their child to daycare and cry all the way to work. Tell me she is a typical teen, who knows her mom would give her the stars in the sky if she were able. 

I need to know what to name our club. Or is there one already out there, and if so... did the mail lady lose my invitation? Can someone send me a new one? 

Oh, and I need written instructions on how to work this face time thing. Add those in the P.S. of the invite. 

Please.

I know you're out there.

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Where Did The Fly on the Ceiling Come From?

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Why can't we have another tea party with the plastic Dora tea set?

Once they turn 14, is it customary for the hip to slip out of socket every time I speak?

Is there something on the ceiling that only I can't see, and only seems to need to be watched while I am talking?

When did cold cereal start tasting better than a homemade breakfast?

What is this new language they speak when talking to friends?

Will her friends really disown her if she doesn't get a piercing in her face?

When was my shiny golden 'Mother of the Year' statue stolen from the mantal?

Do I seriously look like a dork if I wear a coat when it's below 20 degrees outside?

What is a dork?

Overnight, I believe she morphed into a vampire, and cannot be seen in daylight before 4pm

What kind of fun starts after 10pm, and will you REALLY die if you miss it?

Why isn't she embarrassed of the piles of empty water bottles and dirty clothes stacked up in her room?

Will the universe suddenly crumble around her when I make her clean it?

Am I truly going to ruin her life, landing her in therapy at the age of 30, because I grounded her for not cleaning her room?

Does the world stop if she can't own a pair of Nike's?

Should I learn CPR in order to save her life, after each time I tell her 'no'?

Why does the Domino's pizza at Suzie's house tonight taste better than the Domino's pizza at our house tonight?

Am I neglecting her health, because I don't truly believe she can't hear me?

Have I lost my hearing, because I can't hear the words she just mumbled?

Have I lost sense of the english language because I can't understand what the musical artist XYZ123 just said 5 times in a row?

And why is it that my hearing seems to be extraordinarily sensitive, causing the music to be to loud?

How can they sit in a room together, and all I hear is the sound of buttons being pushed?

Will my grandkids know how to speak... or will all conversations be spoken via text?

Grandkids..... oh no. She's old enough to make me a grandma.

Surely I'm not the only mom in the world that wants to watch their child at a sporting event.

Will her hand really fall off if she waves at me?

Will I melt her skin if I attempt to give her a hug?

And the biggest question of all...

Did body snatchers break into our home in the middle of the night, and take my sweet princess? 

I think so. I think they have relocated her to a land where it's in the rule book that you have to sleep all day, eat cereal in your bed surrounded by dirty clothes and garbage, and flies on the ceiling don't exist. Where the moms wear golden medallions around their neck as they take their kid to get a puncture wound placed on their face, while singing all the words to XYZ123, AND they turn the volume up. Where the use of a chiropracter is obsolete, because it's cool to walk with a limp due to a hip out of place. Where waving and hugging are illegal, vocal conversations don't exist, and nothing opens until after 10pm. The land where you win a pair of Nike's everytime you order a Domino's pizza, and there aren't allowed to be anyone over the age of 21 at sporting events. This is the planet where the stork really does bring the baby, but only after you turn 30.

And tea parties are prohibited.

Mom Guilt

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 It truly is a real thing. You don't recognize it though, until you already have it. It's like a toothache. It starts with just a hint of discomfort ever so often, and over time, leads into a body part in so much pain you just want to rip it from your mouth with a pair of pliers. Of course it's not my teeth hurting, but sometimes I'd like to rip my heart out, wrap it in a cute pink cloth, and hide it under my pillow until I'm ready to use it again. 

I know, it seems exaggerated. I seem dramatic. If that's the case, you've been spared from the mom guilt thus far in your journey. But don't worry. You'll get the experience too, someday.

It's looking back on all those times that I wished my child could walk, so I no longer had to carry her. The moments when I thought it would be so nice if I could just hand her a hamburger, instead of taking 30 minutes to feed her. The endless days of being a soccer mom, and rearranging my schedule because she needed a ride, and wishing she just had her license. The missed parties my friends threw, the great job offers I passed up, the babysitter costs.... it's all those things plus so many more that actually had the audacity to pop into my mind, even though it may have been a split second, and never given another thought. It's the mom guilt. Looking back to all those seconds adding up to minutes, of wishing for a break. Or wishing things were "easier." 

It's the guilt of knowing you will never get those moments back, and wondering if that makes you a bad mom. The heartache of knowing that she walks herself to her car now every day, and is able to stop for a hamburger on her way to her volleyball tournament. The pain of knowing that you no longer need a babysitter, because there is no baby. Oh, and those parties you just hated to miss? Nobody can tell you anything about them, because nobody can remember what happened anyway. Tonight, you could be going to one, because there isn't a crying baby stopping you. Yet you stay at home and cry a bit. Because there isn't a baby at home needing you. Realizing, that after all these years, you already had the most important job all along.

At any point in time, it can hit you. Like a toothache. Or a Kenworth with no brakes on Interstate 90 running 6 hours behind. Just remember, you're not alone. Momma says I'll get through it, and she is apparently living proof. It is a reminder that you are human, and can still love your child more than the breath you inhale, even though they can dress themselves now. 

Keep all of this in mind when she gets ready to jump in her car, and asks for $20 for gas and a burger. Enjoy the hug you receive after giving her $25 instead, in the case of an emergency. Embrace the moment when she rolls her eyes when you request she call you when she gets there so you know she's safe. Above all else, know that when she sees you in the stands during halftime at the tournament and smiles as she is secretly begging you to not wave, that every moment has lead up to this one. No matter who drove the car.

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Moms Shades of Pink

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 "Should it be light or dark pink? Which do I go with?" Then, with a sigh, "I don't even know what to do."

My son and his fiance have been picking out wedding colors... ALL DAY. Which has lead my mind to struggle focusing on 50 shades of pink. After a couple hours of going through each and every color of pink in the spectrum, I step away for a time out. Funny, a time out. I used to put him in time out when he was a toddler. He'd sit in the corner with his head down, every time, and say, "I'm sorry mommy." Then I would explain to him that I only do this because I want him to be safe and learn right from wrong, because I love him more than all the stars in the sky... and he would tell me it was ok, and that he loved me more than a hotdog. 

Pink. Bold, or pastel? They continue, and so do I. Now lost in my own train of thought... pink. I was so scared. One pink line, or two? I can't really tell. I don't want to wait 5 minutes. Is it supposed to be a dark pink? I can see one...... my heart races as I hear someone else enter the McDonald's public restroom. Little do they know, the 19 year old girl in the stall next to them is going through the biggest moment of her life, alone, sitting on a toilet seat cover, her life suddenly based on dark pink, or light pink...one line or two? I close my eyes and take a deep breath. She leaves, after meticulously applying her bright red lipstick. As the door latches, I slowly open my eyes, and stare at the white stick in my hand. Clearly, two, bright pink lines. I sigh, before the tears start rolling, and say to myself, " I don't even know what to do."

I feel a tear trickle from my eye. As I try to nonchalantly wipe it from my cheek, I suddenly feel a hand on my shoulder. I look up, shaking myself out of 1998, and returning to the present. He looks at me and smiles. Suddenly, all my worries are gone, and it's just him and I. 

"Don't start crying already, mom." he says.  As I stand to give him a hug, I hear her say behind us,

"Are you sure you want all pink?", and before he can answer, I hear myself say, "Yes! Pink is a beautiful life changer. You want pink." He looks at me curiously, wondering what exactly I'm talking about, because I've never been fond of pink. Until today. Today, I remembered just how special the color pink is.

I grab his hand and smile. A genuine, happy smile. 

"Want to go to McDonald's?" I ask.

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