I die a little every time I sit in my 4×6 work station. Life slips away every time I’m standing (because sitting is unfriendly) at my desk, which really isn’t mine but just a general space where everyone congregates and over zealous moms forget everything they know about personal space.
I’m lucky to have these two jobs. Without them I wouldn’t have money for medicine, gas, water, power, and even the occasional overpriced Starbucks iced coffee. But still, they are killing me.
I get yelled at ALL THE TIME.
THERE ARE TOO MANY WIRES.
YOU BETTER MAKE THIS WORK.
I’M PISSED. I’M TIRED.
I’VE BEEN HERE FOR HOURS.
THE STUPID … JUST SHUT OFF.
I CAN’T CONNECT.
YOU NEED TO FIX THIS.
WHERE ARE MY REPORTS.
YOUR COMPANY SUCKS.
I HATE THIS SHIT.
BUT ON THE WEBSITE…
YOU NEED TO REMOVE THE FEE.
I WILL MAKE A SCENE.
WHAT DO YOU MEAN MY KID WAS DROPPED FROM CLASS AFTER I WAS GIVEN TWO WEEKS TO PAY MY LATE CHARGES BUT NEVER DID?!???
So the moral of this short piece kids of all ages is – do what you love.
Keep on writing, drawing, playing, building… Don’t stop. Don’t end up soul less in a no-chance-to-ever-advance position.
3 days. In just 3 short, fleeting days my baby will be 7.
I can’t stress how much time really does fly. There are moments I missed that I’ll never get back. There are memories that were never made because something got in the way. There are a thousand things I regret and wish I could do over.
My dear sweet Lola,
At 6 your hands are still tiny. Your love is still pure. You fill the house with whys, what ifs, and wonder. Your eyes and laugh still sparkle with innocence. Your dreams are big and very within reach and any wrong doings against you are simply answered with forgiveness. You are my hero and the love of my life. You’ve taught me so much and make me strive to become a better mother and person every waking day.
I love you, sweet pea.
You’re almost 7 years old and you still let me pick out your clothes. Hopefully, this will continue until you’re 35. Please stop growing up so fast. Just yesterday we were making sock puppets at the DMA and going around from cupcake shop to cupcake shop trying to find the world’s tastiest cupped cake. I remember the way your eyes used to light up every time I’d come home and the sound of the pitter patter of your little feet racing across the hallway to jump into bed with me.
Things have been harder lately and I’m so sorry that all these stupid circumstances have taken a toll on our relationship. I promise I’ll make up all the time lost, all the memories that never were, all the laughs that could’ve been.
I love you so much sweet girl.
But sometimes I sit and wish I was a kid again.
Back in the days before these two disasters graced my life I was that girl.
The stupid girl who criticized parents for their bad ass kids. The naive girl who thought women who had abortions were selfish. The way too sheltered girl who thought life was a piece of pie and that everyone who complained should just go get a fucking job.
I am not proud of that girl. I am not her anymore.
Today, I’d like to think of myself not only as an ok mom trying her best but as a compassionate, empathetic woman. A woman who realizes that the world is much bigger than her little house in the ghetto, much bigger than just her kids, much much bigger than her personal battles.
I don’t judge anymore, I understand. If I don’t understand, I keep trying.
I’d like to think that I’m making a difference and hope that my girls grow up in a world less judgey and more lovey.