Friday, May 23, 2014

So much.

She lays next to me. Fidgeting. Unable to settle into the call of sleep.

I lay still beside her.

Reflecting on the day.

The pressure behind my right eye is immense.

Unsure of whether or not it's an actual impending headache or a ball of tears, I pretend I don't feel it.

My patience wears thin as she finds yet another need-to-do moment before shutting her eyes.

Tonight she became a Brownie.

A huge step for my little Daisy girl who has grown so over the last three years.


Time flew so fast. I realized as we settled in at home and tried to figure out a late dinner that I had no pictures of the two of us. I tried to get one and her focus was elsewhere.

Sometimes 7-year-olds are so self-centered.

That sounds RIDICULOUS. I know it. But it mattered anyway.

Her. Distracted. Me. Emotional. My husband. His hands full.

The picture didn't happen.

Me. Offended. Almost. Sort of.

Ridiculous, I know.

She rolls to me.

I'm sorry ... she says. The words that follow don't matter. She says she's sorry for whatever she thinks upset me. Whether it was a talk with my husband as I disappeared upstairs to change or her own thoughts, she's got an apology for me.

I well up silently.

I'm the mom. Why does she have to apologize?

Shouldn't I have control over my emotions by now? I mean, she's SEVEN.

The reactions still come. I still struggle. I'm still me. A mom. Yes. But a human being. A person. A woman who balls up inside when I become overwhelmed. A woman who thinks afterwards about whether or not she overreacted when she raised her voice. Who says her own I'm sorries to her daughter - way more than once in a while.

A woman who misses her own father desperately.

It's hard because I don't mean to say that that's what this comes down to. It's not. I've been this person since long before my father left us. Wow. Those words, like that? Put some blame on him. That's wrong - it wasn't his fault. G-d's plan and all - or something. But I have been this mom for oh-so-long. So very long.

And I'm finding my way. Finding ways to not feel so overwhelmed.

I'm a stay-at-home-mom with a daughter in school. What's to overwhelm me? I say it - I say it because I feel that others must think it. I mean, it's true. I do work. Part-time. I do blog. Sometimes. I do write. Volunteer. Do more. Sometimes.

And sometimes, like the other day? I watch 4 hours of reality TV in an hour (loads of fast-forwarding) and find out who won Dancing with the Stars AND The Voice. And I forget about a cup of coffee on the newly updated Keurig and I think about things and I want to hide from the phone and I say something on Twitter and nobody answers and I'm that person - longing for a connection - looking for something to remind me I'm human and not alone. And I'm trying to BE that person for other people like me. And sometimes I just need to remind myself that the tears WILL fall. And that's okay.

And so, last night, my beautiful daughter apologized. And I rolled towards her and hugged her. And when she pretty much ordered me to hold her hand, I did. I didn't repeat the sentence as a question so she could add a please or a thank you, or say things correctly. I held her hand.

And I listened as her breath steadied. And I didn't want to let go of those tiny fingers entwined in mine. But I did. And I slid carefully out of her bed, pretty much tiptoed out of her room, closed the door and winced, angry with myself when she called out "Come back!" ... I whispered words of comfort and promised I'd be back. I always promise. And she's asleep in minutes.

And later that night - the tears fell. Finally. The pressure gone some. Not all, but some.

As I think about things. Life. Motherhood. Loss. Grief. Parenting. Death. Exhaustion.

They fell. Silently.

And eventually I crawled into my own bed, distracting myself until I was too tired to think anymore.

Because some days? Sometimes?

It's just so so very much.


  1. It is just so very much. And I'm sorry you feel that weight on you right now.

    My own daughter is ten, nearly eleven, and I still don't have controlling my emotions down all the way. It is hard, this motherhood mixed with life thing.

    It is hard, and easy to feel isolated, and we do what we can to make it through the day. And if that sometimes looks like 4 hours of reality tv in an hour, that is okay. And it is okay when those tears fall.

    And I know it is more than okay when that little hand reaches out for yours. Because those are the moments that make life real. Real, true, and beautiful.

  2. Oh, sweet friend. I love you.
    Know that you have people here for you, to hold you up or hold you down, whichever you need more. ;)

  3. Sounds like it can be so isolating...hoping a better day ahead.

  4. Tender and touching. And I'm crying as I look at my daughters, 31 and 28 now. And their daughters. Life's circle.

  5. Some days it really is all too much. You wrote it so well.

  6. Such a touching post. This is my first time by and I just want to hug you. Hopefully there are better days ahead for you.

  7. O, you have described this so beautifully. I am sitting quietly in the dark waiting for my little guy to fall asleep and reading this post.... I'm feeling much less alone.
    Forget twitter, reach out to mamas comfort camp, I'll reach back. xoxo.

  8. I don't think there is anything unusual or wrong about feeling like overwhelmed at times.

    I know there are moments where it hits me and I wonder what my parents knew that I don't.

  9. I so get this. It all seems like so much sometimes. And there are times I look at my life and think why should I feel like this, there's no major catastrophes, I should just be happy. But there's no denying the real emotions.

  10. Sending you so much love. I'm thinking of you. xoxo

  11. You've just inspired me. I have 2 daughters, & I have pics of me w/each of them. But not printed. Held hostage in a phone...on FB. I realize that at 41, I have NO pictures of my mom & me outside of a few baby shots. I'm gonna print the pics of my daughters & me. They should have that. And so should I. Thank you.


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