a lesson is repeated until it's learned

I've wailed, cried, conjured, blamed and hated. 4 years. I've lived with the agony of someone who is standing on a boat lurching with every jolt of the water. and I think it's time for me to stop. letting go of my resentment for the unpredictability of my husband's business trips is the most intelligent choice I've made in my life. and the easiest one. it's not about sacrifice or compromise. not even acceptance or surrender. it is a small shift teaching me that stability is more about consistency of the heart and less about the circumstances of my life.

I need a toilet seat cleaner

full-time single-parent day #12.

my butt hurts from riding an old-fashioned wooden horse and "hee-ha" and "heeeeeeeee" devoting overserious effort to amuse my 3 year-old sons. but no. I am not exhausted. I've just found the perfect recipe for contentment. I nibble on rare minutes of gratification and strive to compose myself everytime things get a little unpleasant. but for some reason Sean and Will now refuse to pee standing up. and I have purchased 72 diapers yesterday only to find out that my boys are perfectly qualified for a dry-all-night marathon. did I mention that I suck at shopping?

the queen of returns

I am stuffed with flaws and imperfections jostling and crowding my entire self. but today I have finally realized that my glaring defects consist in one thing:

I suck at shopping.

Paris plage

Paris by the beach. can you believe that?

self portrait challenge - momster no more

I have never shared morning cuddling with my newborns under the sheer light of a dawning day. I fed and bathed and wrapped my head around the momsterhood prospect thinking guilt was just a part of the trip. years have passed. and they have been short, troubled and exhausting. I'm now carrying a Samsonite of consuming regrets. lately though, spending time with my sons is more about taking the plunge than keeping my head above water. it is exhilarating and breathtaking and emotional and fun. the balanced equation of darling imperfectness and unbelievable bliss. and my ability to love unconditionally is extending to a level I never thought I could ever reach.

I. love. being. their. mom. I. really. truly. absolutely. do.

God is busy on Sunday

full-time single-parent day #2. 

my exhaustion is dangerously expanding. I know, I know. two days. I am racked with shame. so today I decided to purge my dimming sanity and dusted, scrubbed, swept, washed, wiped and freshened my sons' room as if I could hide my obvious defeat with a tidy and sanitized house. I do that once in a while because it gives me a false -yet much needed- sense of control over my life. but. right. now. pillows are flying. 3 year-old bodies are vaulting and propelling into the air. the unceasing "what we do now Mommy?" is unbelievably irritating. and my head is getting misty.

why. oh why.

and then I remember.

God is busy on Sunday.

because August is not a good writing month

every day I wake up loaded with the soggy and massive burden of obligation to make my sons happy. mostly in the summer. especially when their father is away. but even on the edge of insanity, the glow in my sons' vivacious eyes beaming in merry-go-rounds is enough to move the momster to tears. my exhaustion is buried under bags of shape stickers and concealed in obscurity. I know I am blessed. but of course, I don't have much time to write.

the end of an era

I will never forget my feeling at that specific moment. this indefinite response prompted by the sight of my son sitting at a table with five other kids for the very first time in his life. I think it was pride. or love. I'm not sure.

many days have followed. I've felt miserable, relieved, sad, annoyed and happy. I've hated everytime I closed the front door behind me but loved the exhilaration of reappearing in my children's life at the end of the day. I've leaned on walls, grabbed my face, wiped some tears and resented myself everytime I heard them cry. I've been stricken with guilt as an aftermath of my boy clinging to me and not letting go. but I've been blessed to see my sons grow from denim overalls aficionados who were not vocally expressive and fell everytime they attempted to jump or run too fast to articulate little boys who can write their own names.

today we said goodbye to the five incredible women who have been wiping Sean and Will's little bottoms and teaching them how to sing, share, ask, eat, thank, play, draw, forgive and love for the past two years.

today was the last time I ever cooked pasta at 8am and wrote my sons' names on yogurts and disposable plastic boxes.

today we're back from an impromptu trip to IKEA where we bought a hobby horse for Sean and finger puppets for Will.

today was officially Sean and Will's last day at daycare.

errands

I love pharmacies. I could spend hours in there.

the definition of mishap

joy broke out the moment I told my boys I was taking them to the library this morning. I beamed. sometimes, it is almost too easy to make them happy. 2 briefs, 2 pants, 2 t-shirts, 4 socks, 4 shoes and two headaches later, I parked the car, unbelted everybody and gave some major instructions. no running. no bumping into old ladies. and most of all, no screaming. as my mind was frenetically making up a dozen brilliant repartee, just in case, you know, we headed toward the library, prepared to brave people's gazing over in a thin tolerance. but. it. was. closed. on Wednesday. at 11am. this is what happens when you try too hard. but you don't know it yet. later in the afternoon I still felt bad for my sons so I decided to pick them up earlier and surprise them with an unexpected trip to the library. I entered the daycare eager to spark jubilation but could not find my boys.

"where are Sean and Will?" I asked.

"they are at the library. they will be back in 20 minutes"

oh. I. see. the queen of logistical blips. the definition of mishap. that's me.