What do you see when you look at me?  You see small wrists and think they're easy to grab and manipulate?  You see thighs smaller than your neck and think they couldn't possibly be strong enough to outdo you?  You see a woman, so I'm automatically easy to push around?

Know what I see when I look at you?  I see a head full of ego with nothing to back it up.  I see arms full of muscle that haven't ever been used to help, only hurt.  And I see a man so weak he can only pick on a woman half his size.

You think you know everything there is to know about me because you've heard it through the filter of a liar.  You think you can look down on me because you've never been caught showing your true colors.  What about all the times you got turned down when you snuck in behind his back?  You think you can tell me what to do with my life because you have a family turning a blind eye behind you.  You think you can spread lies about me to the people stupid enough to listen simply because the smart ones ignore you anyway.  Want me to start telling the truth about you?

You think I can't fight back because you're a man.  Please.  I've been knocked around by bigger, stronger, louder boys than you my whole life.  And I have never, not once, been beaten.  You are nothing.

No, there's no way my smaller hands or little arms can hurt you.  You've got me by at least 100 pounds, it's true.  But my mind?  Well, my mind could annihilate you in the blink of an eye.  So, think long and hard before you come at me again.  Because, there is nothing you could ever do to me that would lessen the strength of a life long lived in struggle.  And I'd be happy to show you that the next time you come at me like the loud mouthed, trash talking, lieing, bully, punk you are.

Say it

I say lots of things I shouldn't. 

There are so many times when, after saying every little thought that was running through my mind, I've thought: "well, that's going to come back to haunt you".  And it does, usually.

I tell people how I feel.  About them.  About what they're doing.  About how they're changing my world.  I tell people they're important.  Or beautiful.  Or mean.  Or selfish.  I tell people how they make me smile inside.  Or they make me cry when I'm alone.  I tell people the truth. 

And, I don't mind when they do the same to me.  If I make you feel something, good or bad, say it.  I can take honesty.  Truly.  If I'm being a bitch, say it.  If I make you smile at the thought of me, say it.  If you can't wait to watch me leave, say it.

But don't sugarcoat anything.  Sugarcoating is like trying to lie with a clear conscience.  It's a waste of perfectly good frosting because, in the end, it's still a lie.  You still weren't strong enough to tell the truth.  Be strong enough because I promise I'm strong enough to take it.  I don't have to like every word in order to want to hear all of them.

You're not going to like everything I say, but that won't stop me.  So, don't let it stop you.

Yes, a lot of words have crossed these lips.  And, not all of them were thought through first.  Some came tumbling out before I could find my filter.  But I have never regretted the truth, given or received.  Honesty should really be the only determining factor whenever you ask yourself "How do I say this?"

Just say it because, whether it be the beginning or the end, one of us has to.

Because

Because she was being ornery. 

I walked Maya all the way to her classroom today because she was being ornery.  She had brought something home the day before that she wasn't supposed to and I had to return it to her teacher.  I held her hand and took her to the lady who watches the kindergarteners before the bell rings.  I spoke to her teacher for a minute or two and walked back out of the classroom.  I couldn't find her at first, so I had a moment of panic staring into the faces of all of the other little bitty kids.  Then I turned to find her sitting behind me smiling. 
"I love you, mami.  Have a great day and I'll see you after school!"

Because she was being ornery, I got to smile at her an extra time this morning.

I worked all day, so I didn't know what happened in Connecticut until I had a second to check Facebook.  When I didn't know what everyone was talking about, I turned on the tv.

Because she was being ornery, I saw the inside of my kindergartener's classroom today.



A classroom full of kindergarteners.


So many mamas saw their babies off to school this morning.  Smiled and waved and told them they loved them.  So many families rushed through the morning routine on an ordinary school day.  So many little ones excitedly walked into their classroom today with thoughts of Santa or the weekend or lunch on their minds. 


Because she was being ornery, all I could see was her classroom full of little faces.

I waited with knots in my stomach for her to round the corner after school.  I rushed to her and carried her for the next fifteen minutes.

"What's wrong, mama?"
"I just missed you today."
"I missed you too, mama."
"I love you so much."
"I love you more than all the bumps on Mars."

We walked around to sister's door and squeezed her so hard she said I was strangling her.  We clung to each other all the way back to the car.

"What's wrong, mama?  Did something happen to Uncle Michael?"
"No.  Everyone we know is fine.  It's just been a sad day and I'm so thankful that you and your sisters are all safe and sound."

Because she was being ornery, I had a moment this morning of exasperation. 

I am so thankful that I am able to hold my babies tonight and tell them that I love them.  I am so lucky to be ending this day as whole and complete as I started it.  My heart breaks for all of the families who will never be whole or complete again.

Nothing will ever matter more.