The End of an Era

All three of my cats are high right now...and so am I! (High on life that is. Come on! What do you think of me??) It's a Friday night around 10 pm. I just finally snuck out of my 5 1/2 year old son's room after his failed attempt at sleeping in the living room self-made fort, yet again (When will I learn??). I am wearing leggings covered in bats and a long grey tank top with a sports bra (like you give a fuck!). I am currently sitting on my living room floor, chilling with the cats, highly (cough) anticipating a bowl of chocolate ice cream with some crumbled, organic, oreo-esque cookies on top. That, I have discovered over the last 5 1/2 years, is something to look forward to and hope for in life.

I have been a stay-at-home-mom for the entirety of my son's life so far. When I tell people this, I get one of two responses generally. People either say "Oh you're so LUCKY!" or they say "How do you DO it?" Either way, they are right! I didn't know what to anticipate in this career (it fucking IS a career) as I had never contemplated being a mother in my entire lifetime up until about 2 months before I got pregnant! So I kind of took it as it came, the way you would a car hitting you unexpectedly while closing your eyes and skipping on a crosswalk.

The first few months, of course, were just a zombie-esque blur. Boob, change, boob, rock, soothe, boob, pace, change, boob...you get the idea. And notice that the word sleep does not exist on that continuous loop. Nope, you're just a body with boobs. And a gaping vagina with lots of blood oozing out of it. And a bed that you often pass by in the night like an old lover. I had some help from my family which was WONDERFUL, but I was a single mom from the get-go which was HARD.

The pre-walking baby years I found much more enjoyable. My son finally became cute instead of like a half-rotten plum with enormous feet! He interacted, laughed (the best), drooled, still pooped a lot and still needed the boob like an alcoholic on Christmas. He was SO CUTE though. This is when the personality starts coming through. This, for me, was when I fell in love. Yes, I am admitting that I was not one of those moms who instantly fell in love with my wrinkly-ass black tar pooping spawn! So what? Eventually I did so who cares? He's fiiinnnneee.

The first steps were glorious. All I had imagined. So much pride floating in the air as my little man stumbled his way across the living room floor for the first time. One lone tear fell down my cheek. That feeling lasted exactly one day, immediately followed by the feeling of impending doom. He was now officially a fucking toddler. Lord save the Queen.

During the toddler years I got into a relationship with an old lover and friend. We ended up moving on a whirlwind to the coast and those years are The Blur Part 2. I am still not sure if I ever got a chance to sit when I wasn't driving or shitting for about 2 years straight! I'm serious. My little mofo was a daredevil. It was almost like he wanted to get hurt! One day I was taking my 4 minute shower, I came out to check on my son, and he had pulled a chair over, gotten up on the counter, and taken out a knife!! No joke. He had done this in the matter of 4 minutes and he was 1 1/2! I was horrified. I somehow managed to fly across the room and get the knife away from him faster than a fucking wizard. I NEVER kept anything sharp any lower than 6 feet after that day. Lesson learned. And luckily before my child was seriously injured.

This is how I have found motherhood to be though... a series of trials and errors, mistakes (oopsies), boo-boos, kisses, tears, laughter, and most of all: zombie hood. It has been so incredibly difficult I cannot even speak to it entirely. I might compare it to a stint in 'Nam or a really intense marathon where you're covered in shit and only have one leg (being a single mom at least...but I believe all moms feel this way at times).

So now, as I sit on my floor alone on a Friday night, salivating at the thought of Breyers, I think ahead 17 days to my son's first day of Kindergarten. I always visualized I'd be popping a bottle of bubbly as he got on the bus and just soaking myself in it like my own personal wet t-shirt contest. Honestly though, I'm a little sad (Damn you older ladies, you were right again!). I know he will enjoy it SO much because he is SO social. I also know that I desperately need the space and time alone to do some inner and outer healing work after being the giver for many years without many breaks. But, deeper down, there is that ultimate mom in me who will miss it being "just the two of us". We have shared amazing adventures over these years, gotten through a fuck load of stressors and multiple moves, fought like The Honeymooners, goofed around like The Marx Brothers, played hours upon hours of board games, read hundreds of books (or the same 10 books a hundred times), bonded, matured together (he has far surpassed me now), walked down more roads than a lost donkey, roller-skated, rode bikes, climbed trees, watched too much TV, played many games of hide-and-seek, explored nature and insects, and snuggled like mofos!! Yup, I'll miss it. Here's to you Benny...on your new adventure!