somewhere between throwing the football and driving the crew to a super hero birthday party, middle man was telling a story about how his friends would see me come to pick him up “somewhere, someday” and how they’d say “there’s some hot chick here to get you.”
yes. he really did.
it was the first time he’d said anything remotely like that about me (or anyone else really) so i jumped at it and said “you realize you just called your mom a hot chick, right?” and he said “no i didn’t. that’s just gross. i mean that’s what my friends probably would say. not me.”
so we left it at that. and i smiled silently in the front seat.
and he may have seen me in the rearview mirror … but you know what? i hope he did.
that little shit.
most the time i feel like a failure as a mother. it’s common of course. i shouldn’t work. i should stay home with them. especially now. divorce. two separate houses. sadness and confusion makes way to happiness and joy and then falls back to screaming and slamming doors.
they are boys.
they are adjusting.
so am i.
sometimes they think i’m the best mom cause i can throw a spiral (sometimes. most the time. kinda sorta.) and i burp as loud as they do (sometimes. most the time. kinda sorta).
and other times i’m the devil. worst. mom. ever. i hate you and i don’t get anything i want.
that kinda stuff.
and then i’m pretty and nice and i give them coke and i make them brownies and sometimes i make them whoopie pies, but only barely ever cause if you know me, that’s really really really special and if i’ve made you whoopie pies i really really really like you. or kinda love you. and it’s not often, people, since they take hours and i usually get a tummy ache cause i sneak too much of the batter when i think nobody’s looking.
sometimes it’s too dark in the fort. and if we don’t have enough light we search for glow sticks. but most the time we have no glow sticks and we really just want flashlights.
we don’t have those either.
so we prop open the blanket. let the light shine in. but just a little. don’t want to give anything away.
we’re hiding, after all.
wouldn’t want anyone to know what’s really going on in here.
if you’re finding out about the divorce, or pending divorce, for the first time right now, in this blog, i’m sorry. it’s not like it’s a secret. but it’s not like i go around telling everyone about it either.
“oh hi. yes. haven’t seen you in quite some time. yeah. kids are great. getting huge. oh yeah, did i tell you? we have an apartment. most of my stuff is still at the house. we get along well. he’s happy. moving on. i’m happy. moving on. life is good. i have what i need. my heart is satisfied.”
doesn’t happen like that.
it’s almost a couple years removed now. time heals all wounds. we are getting there.
kids are kids. they deal.
and seriously. life is great … i’m smiling. big. bigger than ever.
that’s a long time.
and you know what?
the smiles are real.
both inside and outside the fort.