On Mothers…

I suppose you could say this weekend has been a bust. Mr myn worked all weekend and won’t be home until much later tonight. That pretty much just leaves me with the kids and piles of laundry, cleaning, edits…you name it. Guess how much I’ve gotten done this weekend? Nada. Zip. Nothing.

As I type this, both kids are in the bathtub fussing at each other, but I’m going to choose to ignore it for a moment. Lucy in particular has been extraordinarily clingy these last few days. Literally, every time I’ve sat down today or yesterday to try to sneak in 5 minutes of editing I’ve been confronted with a small body clinging to my legs, insisting she be held RIGHT NOW. Which might even be ok if she’d sit still, but that’s a laugh and a half. Between demands for the sippy cup or needing to sit on the potty or a spill of some sort, it’s just been a constant back and forth.

I’ve given up on getting anything done until later tonight – editing really takes large chunks of “quiet” time for me to get anything done, and I’m clearly not going to get it at the moment.

Still. I seem to remember a line from The Crow that went something like: “‘Mother’ is the name for God on the lips and hearts of all children.” Although, I think that’s actually quoted from William Makepeace Thackary. The point is the same, either way. For all that my kids can be a rip-roaring pain in the ass sometimes, there is still something rather humbling to think that for a short while I actually *am* a deity of sorts. When I left to go to RT last week, I had second thoughts as to how well the kids would do, but they were fine. Better than fine, actually. Even mr myn mentioned that for the most part, they tend to act up more when I’m around than when I’m not. Not sure why that is. Maybe they just want more attention from me, or maybe they think they can get away with more. Maybe it’s something completely different. I’m pretty sure I’ll never know.

(Maybe it’s that way for most gods. They go away for a weekend and then all the prayers start rolling in about saving dogs or stopping world hunger. The god gets back and checks his/her email and is like WTF? I just wanted some time to take a dump without someone barging in on me!! Hmmm. I smell a story. Hands off!)

And of course, this is the week for Mother’s day, and the 7 year anniversary of my mom’s death (you knew that was coming, right?). But this post isn’t about that specifically. Just wishing she were here to compare notes with, for the most part. I have to wonder here if there’s some truth that grand-kids are a parent’s best revenge. (And then again, revenge is a dish best served cold, so I suppose everything works out fine that way).

I wouldn’t trade them for anything, though, regardless of how whiny this post seems. In a few years, they’ll be much more self-sufficient and I suppose I might get a few more moments to myself, though whether I’ll appreciate those moments as much later on remains to be seen.

It’s funny, but when I hear about someone dying, or even stories of murderers or rapists, sometimes I just stop and think for a moment. That person, however wretched they are at this moment, was someone’s kid. Someone carried him/her under her breast for 9 months, wiped their noses, changed their diapers, watched them learn to walk. What is it that makes people who they are? How heartbreaking for a parent to realize that something they have made turned out to be so horribly flawed.

Seems like an awful thing to think about, but there it is. Maybe it’s a mom thing. Maybe it’s terror that regardless of what I might do, my kids will grow up to be who they are and that I can’t protect them forever. But you can damn well bet I’ll try.

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