who are yours today?
The fact that today, I am my own hero.
The fact that today, you should be yours too.
Screaming nightmares, foster care memories, distorted attachments.
An unnatural start to this life. Lost, meandering neurons.
She settles into me. Grows into me. Each day. Each month. Each year.
I am still adjusting to this thing called motherhood. It is hard to move beyond “ward”, “guard”, “protector”.
I am Mother. Or so this child tells me. She leads our way.
The fact that she has been forced to work so hard to find her Mama. To know a Mama.
The fact that sometimes ALL toddlers are total assholes. The fact that sometimes they are telling you something. Something we can’t always hear.
Projectile vomit. Fevers and fears.
Hiking….to….the…laundry…in…the…building…basement. Over and over and over and…OVER.
The fact that I can answer emails, walk a dog, book speech therapy, parallel park the shit out of my truck, cook healthy meals, fix my plumbing, run workshops, install shelves, manage projects, do yoga, clean dishes, book physiotherapy, strategize daycare naps, placate Italian Nonnas, trim bangs, build relationships with strangers who ARE my child’s parents but who are NOT my child’s parents, open responsible savings accounts, take my daughter on a date night, conduct meetings, buy mattresses, build patio fountains, grow my own veggies, contribute to my co-op community, satisfy…myself.
The fact that I can teach my kid to: pronounce the letters B (gug…oops), M (macaroni) and L (loiter…huh?). “Sock” continues to be “Cock” so I’ll accept a deduction in parenting points for that one.
The fact that I can teach my kid to: take off her shoes (it helps if you undo the Velcro first); pull down her zipper (don’t ask about up); stir a pot; put her toys away (it helps if you sing…why does it always help to sing?); drink out of an open cup, balance on one foot, pull up her pants; use both legs to walk up stairs; spin in a circle; puddle hop, stick handle a puck, race down a ramp, throw her dog a ball, kick her dog a ball, squat in the bush, brush her teeth; feed herself with a spoon (don’t ask about a fork); AND kick CP and PVL in the ass*.
The fact that I can book ophthalmology, cut another person’s toe nails without throwing up in my mouth (#thestruggleisreal), interpret the ramblings of a 3 year old sociopath, THERAPIZE myself, travel, explore, experiment, live.
ALL of this while balancing a laptop on my knee, scratching my dog’s belly and holding a metal bowl for my kid as she gags her guts out on the couch.
IN the middle of a global PANDEMIC.
Did I mention book Infant Development Worker, Hip Surgeon, Educational Specialist and Social Worker?
Just please don’t send me an article on potty training or ask if me if “I’ve tried doing…” Cause that shit will have to wait.
The fact that today, I relish in my faults. Because perfection is boring. And mostly dishonest.
Conflicted. Confused. Concerned. Courageous.
The fact that today I am my own hero. And you should be yours too.
*CP refers to Cerebral Palsy. PVL refers to Peri-Ventricular Leukomalacia. We embrace and reject these circumstances every day. In harmony we thrive.
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mads & goose 