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.

Special

I have introduced this little person before.  Her name is Maya.  When she was born, she was quiet and sweet and went with the flow.  She snuggled with me and looked at me with her big dark eyes as if to say "You're the bestest mama.".  This lasted for approximately 25 months.  Then I got a better translation of that intense gaze.... "You're falling for it, mama."

This child is special.  I know you're thinking, every child is special.  No no no no.  This child is the kind of special that makes you sure she is protected under some endangered species act... the kind where you will get fined $10,000 if you disturb her habitat.  She does things that make you sure she's been here before and wrote the rules to her own game.

She stockpiles notes from her teacher.  The little "caught being good notes" that they hand out in kindergarten are overflowing from one pocket of her backpack.  Some are months old; but as soon as she gets in trouble at home, she whips one out like it's brand new.  "See, mama, I did good in school today!"

Every day while we walk around to get Eva, I ask her if anything exciting happened that day.  One day last week when I had come in to volunteer in the classroom, her answer was "You were the most exciting part of my day!" aaaaaawwwwwww Half a second later...before I had even finished forming the heartwarmed smile she inspired...as I was mentally reciting the words for my Mama of the Year acceptance speech... "Now who's your goodest child?".  Little manipulator.

Maya goes to the nurses's office at school three to four times a day.  She can't breathe.  She tripped as she was walking and did a complete somersault and hit the top of her head.  She can't find her class.  etc.  etc.  etc.  When I ask the nurse why she keeps letting Maya get away with this, her answer?  "She's just so cute!"  That's how she gets away with this stuff.

I ask each of the girls every afternoon what the best part of their day was.  One day, Maya's answer was "All the boys chasing me."  "Excuse me??!!"  Her explanation was "Yes mama, because I was so fast they couldn't catch me."

 

On Tuesday, she walked out of school looked right at me and didn't recognize me.  When she finally noticed me, she yelled in front of everyone: "Mama, you can't dress nice!  I don't see you unless you're wearing messy clothes."

 

On Wednesday, she walked directly into her classroom and before I had even left the building began telling her teacher that I didn't feed her breakfast.  She repeated this same story to at least two other adults before the office staff called me (presumably as a courtesy before they called CPS).  "No, Maya had eggs, sausage, toast, fresh fruit, orange juice, and a cinnamon roll less than an hour ago."  So, they put my little traitor on the phone.  Why did she tell people this?  She says she doesn't know, I say she thought someone would give her a pudding cup.

 

 

Yes, Miss Maya is special.  She's exasperatingly special.  She's knock your head on the wall special.  She's a roller coaster ride of special.

 

And she's all mine, which makes me kind of special too.

 



Random thoughts

I don't have anything earth shattering to say, but I do have a few miniscule tremors.

• There's nothing like seeing a middle school boy walking around with $250 headphones to make me want to follow someone home so I can shake his parents silly.
• Halloween should be moved to a weekend night.  Whoever decided that is has to be October 31st never tried to get three kids up and ready for school after staying up late covered in face paint sneaking candy out of a plastic pumpkin until their mama started threatening to turn them into ghosts.
• If you have the urge to make a kindergartner feel bad because their mama packs them "weird and inappropriate" food such as chile rellenos for lunch, please remember that this mama isn't afraid to come up and have a discussion about it.  Yes, I'm sure it would be ever so much more sensible to throw a Lunchable into a bag with a half liter of Mountain Dew and a beef jerky.  But my children eat actual food - not something that looks like it came out of a plastic kitchen and would be fed to a Barbie, so keep your comments to yourself.  Or bring them to the crazy lady waiting for you outside.
• The only thing wrong with Tuesdays is that they only come around once a week.
• If you don't have a friend who makes you laugh out loud every time they text you, you're really missing out.
• Skinny Caramel Brulee Latte is my new favorite beverage of choice.
• Taking a step out of your comfort zone is good for you.  Taking a running leap off of your comfort cliff is exhilarating.  Doing it in front of one of the few people who's opinion matters is best done after two margaritas and a sangria.

That's it for now.  Until next time...

I would rather know what is real than live a lie.  I would prefer to reach out and touch the pain that breaks me than constantly be chasing the salve that isn't made for this kind of struggle.

So, sometimes I reach out for you simply because I know you're not there.  In that moment before I open my eyes, I lay my hand on the cold side of a bed you've never seen in the hope that you'll be in a place you've never been.  And the loneliness swaddles me.  Because, if you were there, that would mean that life had inexorably changed.  It would shift my world in ways that I wouldn't recover from, and I would not be who I have always been.  I wouldn't be the one left behind anymore.  I wouldn't be the one overlooked anymore.  I wouldn't be able to lean on my comfortable sadness anymore.

So, I often start to make a call I can't finish only because I know you won't answer.  I work up an entire conversation in my mind right before I lay the phone back down and turn away.  Because I can't watch it not ring again.  Because I've listened to the silence for so long that I think it's your ringtone.

You are everywhere and nowhere, ever present and gone for good.  I feel your eyes melting my heart even as I hear your footsteps walking away.  I remember the words that broke open my sky even as I forget the way the breeze felt through my hair. 

And, I know what is real.  I can feel it on the cold side of the bed.  I can hear it in the silence.  And I can wrap myself in it as a shelter from the lies.  I won't cry anymore because the truth can't hurt me.  I won't hold on anymore because letting go will free us both.

Open letter

Dear Facebook commenters/Private Messagers/Random Texters/Behind my back talkers,


Yes, I have received all of your opinions.  I have listened to them, read them, contemplated them, and deleted them.  In the beginning, I responded to each of you personally.  Then I realized something... you weren't worth the time it took to respond to every single insult.  So, I will summarize my feelings to each of you now.

I know exactly who I am.

I am a woman who has landed on my feet.

 

I am someone who has played this game too many times to be surprised by the loss.

 

I have stood in the rain too many times to have forgotten the cold.

 

I have picked myself up too many times to sit in this place of sadness.

 

I have walked through fire to get to a place where I don't burn anymore.

 

While I'll never be anyone's image of beautiful, I am capable of holding my head high.

 

I am a loyal person who wants nothing from anyone that I wouldn't gladly hand over myself.

 

I am independent in every way that matters.

 

I am flawed.

 

I can open myself up to you knowing you'll probably run through me, stealing whatever you can.

 

I have been beaten but not broken.

 

I am a grown woman in a grown woman's body, and I don't need to apologize for that.

 

I was your friend until you proved yourself unworthy.

 

 

See, I don't need you to tell me about myself.  I don't need you to point out my flaws or contribute to my insecurities.  I wasn't waiting around for you to tell me everything that I'm doing wrong... I was out there trying to fix the problems.  The only thing each of you really gave me was a stronger conviction in who I am. 

 

So, for all of the nasty comments and name calling, I thank you.  And, for the swift removal from my life, you're welcome.  I know we'll all be better off.