Feels Like Forever
March 4, 2013 § 12 Comments
Sleeping to my left is the kid who keeps telling me “she hates me, she loves me, she hates me ” and I just figured out it’s all Taylor Swift’s fault and that pop-magic song about never getting back together that my kid can’t stop singing, but is too little to comprehend.
“No honey, she doesn’t hate her mother … she hates a mean boy …but hate is bad … so … just. stop. saying. it.”
This goes completely over her head, because even though she knows what it means, why would Taylor say it if it really is that bad?
And my usually sweet kid is like a mixed up ball of love/hate tension anyway from being subjected to these final days of living with parents who wished they’d never met, and she keeps hugging me to remind me that she doesn’t really hate me, and then sputters, “I apologize, mom,” before the song plays in her head again and … here … we … go.
How do you explain to a five-year old that apologies don’t matter if the hurtful things continue to be said?
Sleeping to my right is the kid who’s had a fever since Thursday, and whose stomach woes went whoaaaaaaaa right before the tears started an hour ago, at which point I said, “You don’t have to go to school tomorrow,” to comfort her as she sat shivering in fear (more than from pain), while grabbing at the wallpaper next to the potty.
That thing they say about how you’d rather it be you than your child? God almighty is that true. For both of my girls of course, but the stomach bug will pass. What will happen to the one who hates me? Hate takes longer to heal than 5-7 days of clear liquids and applesauce.
The plumber comes tomorrow.
The electrician comes on Saturday.
Everything will be tip-top for the hypothetical lucky new owners of our not yet listed house.
It’s weird seeing empty walls and built-ins. Kind of sad, and a little melancholy.
Kind of holy hell, Bat Man! Let’s get this party rolling.
A friend who hadn’t seen me in a while said, “Are you training for any races?”
To which I responded, “I’m training for a divorce.”
It’s a dim light down there at the end of the tunnel. A dim light with fuzziness all around.
All I know is that I’m doing what’s right for me and my kids and my timing is good; there’s a tiny flicker of light still left in me to get us where we need to go.
Holding onto faith (and my inner guru) that it doesn’t get extinguished before this entire mess is behind me.
Like, ever. xx