It’s quiet. Oliver is with his daddy on Wednesday mornings. My neighbors upstairs barely move sometimes, and when you rent your upper to “strangers,” that is such a pleasant gift.
I cherish these mornings. Even tho I love my son and wish he could be with me each and every day, I get a sense of who I am when I’m alone. I don’t always need music or background noise. I don’t always need to be busy or moving. When Oliver is home, he calls me over a lot. Momma, come look at this. Momma, can you play with me? Momma, I’m hungry. Momma, can I ... Momma, can you... and it doesn’t stop. All. Day. Long. I don’t mind it (see last paragraphs of this post), but it’s truly exhausting. I had wine with a girlfriend last night and told her, “When Matt moved out I finally realized he really did do a lot around the house!” Single mommy-dom is all about doing the work yourself. There is no one else to do it. It’s me or no one. Garbage, pick up, clean up, sweep, groceries, laundry, gas, oil changes, running errands, paying for everything, answering all questions... it’s me. I am not complaining. But at the end of the day, I look forward to crawling into bed and doing mindless stuff like watching The Bachelor!
I cherish the quiet. I cherish time to pray, to reflect, to take sips of my coffee and stare into space. Tell me, do you get to do that when the kids are around? For me I haven't found a way yet. I'm constantly on the run. The parts of my day where I get to fill up my fuel tank are quiet mornings (sometimes I'm lucky enough to wake a full hour before Oliver), usually when Ollie is at his father’s.
I’ve been on top of the world lately, most days. There is an occasional perimenopausel disruption of seething rage, but most days I’m content with my life and the world, filled with an overwhelming sense of gratitude. It’s true, I am happy. Beyond happy.
I may have mentioned that I started my own business. I am so busy which is why you haven't heard much from me here at RP. I also started working part time too, so each and every day is filled. Starting a new business takes some leg and paper work, design work, and added time. There are nights I'm up quite late.
It's all starting to take shape, and I'm so excited.
Oliver turns 5 soon! According to him, his birthday is in 13 days. He’s been keeping count, talking to his bears and Ugly Dolls each night telling them all about it. He wont do this in front of me. Instead, I have to sneak into the living room, open up the door to his bedroom (he has two doors in his room, and his bed is by the living room door) and quietly eavesdrop just before he falls asleep. Softly, he talks to them. I can barely hear him or make out what he's saying. But I can see him counting the days, wiggling his whole body in excitement. He’s sweet. Children are sweet.
My little baby... he’s tall and lanky, not an ounce of fat on him, altho he does have a bit of a baby tummy still, thank God! His face is shaping up. Boyhood has arrived, and so to watch him carry on with excitement to his animals is not just a sweet experience, it’s a relief. He’s so grown up, and yet I can see he’s still a baby boy. Love doesn’t do my adoration and gratitude justice. He is thee most important person in my life. He brings joy, laughter, frustration, so many lessons, friendship, companionship… and he brings out something in me that has been there since I was a little girl. The desire to nurture and care for another. The natural need to mother, a deep pulse of physical yumminess that stems from my heart and moves into my arms, hands, head. I want to hug him, hold him, be close to him. And then I want to release him and watch him live. It’s bizarre and beyond my control. It must be a mix of hormones and brain chemistry fueled by love and spirituality. It’s more than science. For this love makes the work I do as a mother not just robotic, but fun. I just do. He’s my cub, and I get to raise him and protect him. I feel like I am the luckiest woman in the world. I have thee best child. I like a lot of the children I’ve met, but this one, this one is mine.
Five years old. Holy cow.