“If I sit really, really close to the door,” she said. “If someone came running down the hall with a gun, I wouldn’t have time.”Please take a moment to process that quote. Really read it. Those words came from a high school student.
What no one tells you about motherhood is just how very not glamorous it is. Motherhood is lots of great things, but it’s also all of this aforementioned crap (literally), and more.
There are many experiences from my childhood I would love to revisit. To wit: Long, lazy afternoons fishing on the lake with my grandfather. The feel of smoothing down a bluegill’s fins as I unhook him and toss him back with a splash into the crystal water.
Let me start off this post by saying, I hate that I have to even write this. A parent’s nightmare, hands-down, is the though of something bad happening to your children.
We start movements. We start baths. We get our minds so set on something that it would take an act of God to vaporize our passion. (You tell us we’re stubborn; we say it’s strong.)
Right now, as I’m typing this, I’m in the McDonald’s drive-thru line. It is 5:19pm. Tonight marks the second time this week I’m feeding my kids Grade A, Unadulterated Crap.
Even five years later, I still remember the moment very distinctly. In his dark room, I nursed my two-week-old son. We glided back and forth on his chair, all alone, it felt, in more ways than one.
Guys. What’s uuuuup! I know, I know… I’ve been MIA on this blog for about three days in a row now, which is–shockingly–the longest I’ve gone since starting it up over a year ago.
