Flashback photo of my son and I.
We get busy. I get busy. I’m only one person but I’m a different person to the people in my life. To my co-workers I’m that burst of positivity. To my family, I’m the rock and the spit fire that would set the record straight. To my church family, I’m the ultimate marketing and advertising guru. To my little nieces I’m inspiration. I’m something different for everyone but I’m only one person.
Monday night I was late coming home. I walked through the door, dropped my bags on the chair at the entrance, heels still on and jumped into mommy mode because I’m that too. “Did you eat already, are you hungry?” Check. “Did you do your homework?” Homework takes 1-2 hours. Check. “Okay, go bath.” Check. “Go brush your teeth.” Check. “Get in bed.” Check. Lights out and then I hear, “Mommy is their still time to read me my bedtime sorry?” “No honey, mommy’s busy with something and it’s already late because mommy got home late from work.” I leave to try to conquer the other 5000 things that demand my attention before midnight.
Sigh. I sit down for the first time since being home and think to myself, there never seems to be enough of me or enough time to go around. I passed my sons room that night and the lights were out but I could see his eyes glisten from the hallway light. I enter his room and ask, “Baby why are you still up?” He replies, “Because I’ve been keeping count.” “Count of what?” I asked. “Of how many times you’ve told me you’re too busy.” I was crushed but I wanted to know the answer. I could feel my eyes start to water.
My son shed a few tears that night as I tried to explain that mommy isn’t superwomen and I can’t scale a building in a single bound, but I’m still mommy so I try. But unfortunately sometime mommy doesn’t remember the small details. Sometimes I miss deadlines. Sometimes I simply run out of time.
I left his bedroom feeling horrible. Those old feelings of “you’re not going to make it being a single mom” came back to me and were steering me in my face. I couldn’t get around it. The way I felt swallowed me whole. I stayed up a few more hours getting some other things done.
The next morning I called my brother, my best friend, he’s also the 7th child, I’m the 8th, and told him everything that had transpired. He reminded me how it was when mom and dad were raising us. Even with the two of them they couldn’t do it all. Being a mom is a full time job, hats off to all the women doing it all. The next night I was home on time and I was able to read a few chapters out of my son’s novel. All is right in the world.
#takemyfoolishadvice moms we can’t do it all but we get really close to it every day. On the days we fall short don’t beat yourself up. There will be days that you do it all and days that you wish you could start all over again. The most important thing is to let your child know they are loved.
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Beloved,
AWalk
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