Things I lie about to my kids

Have mercy.

The oldest asked if I ever had a boyfriend before daddy.  Peppering me with questions.  Laser focus, the hyper focus enjoyed by those with ADHD when they like a subject.

Rocco and I were married when i was 36.  37?  Had boyfriends galore and an ex husband by then.  Where in the world did she learn about this?  I dodged the question.

Is it time to tell them about dead end marriages with abusive alcoholics?

When do I tell them about the baby who died before they were born?

When do I tell them what medical termination means.

Incompatibility with life.

Now all of a sudden the donor egg question doesn't seem as scary.

A good old fashioned Lexapro cry

Crying sucks.

I always try to stop it.  Since I am yakked up on 30mg of Lexapro I am usually successful. Always successful.  I feel the tears and I shut them off.

Therapist say cry = good.  Cry = release.  Cry = growth.

I say cry = surrender.  Cry = losing.  Cry = not in control.

This wkend was so long and so horrible.  Lydia is consuming all the oxygen in this house.

We walk around waiting for the bomb to explode.

It did and I sobbed like a momma should.  Man I really feel better but maybe it is because no one is home right now but me.

She gets this shit show from my DNA

Raced home from Lydia's medication appointment (progress = good) and treated myself to a concert under the stars outside of Chicago.  It's the kind of place where everyone does their best to feel like a Crate and Barrel advertisement.  Electric candles, silver and china and classy shit like that.

I texted my best pal on the way there to see if I should hit a gas station for food and wine.  I had Big Intentions but didn't end up getting to shower that day.  All the more reason I EARNED this good time out.

Kind of forgot about this read everyone is talking about.  Kind of forgot how it stressed the living shit out of me.  Oh yeah, this post was a running in my head all week.  Until it wasn't. Eek.

I lived that shit out loud last night.  Dammit all.

I am mega stressed from Lydia's large and magnificent energy that just might choke the life out of me.  I am crazy exhausted from nursing for over 2 years.

Over in the suburbs
Her house looked like a bomb
Lived a tired, stressy mom
And her little kid throng.
"You suck!", said her family.  "I suck!", said the mom.
And the Sad momma cried in the wine, her favorite balm.

Living with a little regret for my choices that night.

Great show.  Great time.  Heading home.  Long wait for the shuttle bus.  Having fun admiring a cool Hillary Clinton shirt.  Laughing. The line is long and we've been waiting a long time.  Still fun for me, but notice some weary moms in line w littles asleep on dad's shoulders or in strollers.

And then Trashy Line cutters show up.  The cut in front of me.  Who cares.

They cut in front of tired mommas.  Mommas who very likely wanted to be kid free that night.  I was glad to have Rocco home so not to foot a $17/hour babysitting night.  Sometimes your kid comes with you for love, sometimes for the budget.  Not sure what the case was for these moms, but the Trashy Line Cutters said kids belong at home, not at a concert.

Short story, I stood up for your Uterus.  I challenged the Trashy Line Cutters.  Rumor has it there almost was a fight, but I'm damn lucky Trash didn't throw a punch.  I'd be on the ground.  But I was asking for it. Daring them.

I was angry.

Why would line cutters be so personal to me?  It was an electric wire on my spine.  The electric wire of injustice.  I suited up for battle.

I am my daughter's mother.