Today...today I feel like, sitting down at the end of the day, the only thing I can think to myself is: You're doing it wrong.
I recount the day. Once the baby is asleep. Once my thoughts are all I can hear.
Today I yelled at my husband.
Today someone dear to me told me if there was a god, bad things wouldn't happen to good people.
Today I complained about at least three people.
Today I wished for more peace than I had.
Today I wished things I enjoyed costed less (landscapers, sushi).
Today I didn't care about the other people in the restaurant because "we deserved to get out more".
Today I wanted to move far away.
Today I wished my husband didn't work so far away. And didn't work so much.
Today I found out a dear friend (a husband, a father) is in the middle of Isaac and his wife is home worried sick. Curtis works an hour away. Only an hour.Today I called at least two other drivers idiots.
Today I learned that I misjudged someone. And did it for a long time.
Today I whined I never get time away from the baby.
Today, I'm doing it wrong.
Too many days I do it wrong.
But the cool thing, the thing that makes me sick and makes me rejoice all at the same time, I get to start again. I get to still be a person. I get to choose. I can sit around in my dirty bath water complaining that it's gotten cold and ick, or I can shape up, soap up, tread that frickin water and keep my sorry-feeling self warm.
I can take pride in doing it backwards. Against the grain. Having a faith that is rare. Having a relationship that's even rarer. Having an ability to forgive, to forget that gets me called naive. Having more of The Dream than I am surely grateful for. Having another life start in my very own body. Having a healthy body, a body I can be proud of for it's unreal accomplishments, instead of shame in it's "flaws". I will not take shame. I will not let it burn me up. I will not let guilt deforest my brain. I will not let people fool me into thinking they don't care. They do. I know they do. I know. I know God, The God, is not doing to us. I know He gives to us. I know He loves but knows we are better, stronger without bubbles. I know He lets us decide. He doesn't need slaves, He has the angels for the "have to do" stuff. We, I... I get to choose. And I like to choose. I like my brain on happy. I like laughing enough to make me look like a fool, where my damaged bladder nearly embarasses me. I like my dingy, rounded, mommified body. I work hard. I love hard. I will love you until it pisses you off. And I will mean it. And I hope it makes you uncomfortable. You probably need to be there. Uncomfortable, I mean. In the best way, somebody loving you until you're nervous and think she's crazy.
When I do it wrong, it's a restart button. At the beginning, in my Contra, I got the left-right-left-right-up-down-up-down-B-A-Start. I've just got to keep fighting. This is my 5'11'', green-eyed, long-legged, preggo-bodied, hope-filled territory. This is my electric yogurt, my land to shape. You run your territory, I'll run mine. I give up wanting to run yours...yours is too much for me. Yours scares me. Hell, mine scares me. But I like it. Sometimes I suck at it. But I can do it. I control it. I don't want to do it wrong.
So, I will kiss my sleeping one year old, my sleeping husband, send a kiss to tiny baby in my belly, praise MY Jesus, and put my electric yogurt in reset mode for some hours. And I hope, I'm hoping, I'll come out a little better on the other side.
So Damn Lucky
(I want to be like Carter, he is all smiles... and magical drums. And I love him. And will always carry a serious life-long crush.)
For Kaitlin.
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