By 

Zero Control


The ugly cry. Women all know exactly what that is. It’s when you are really moved by a moment or event that you lose all control over your ability to control your facial expression or stop the tears from falling.  Think of it like walking into a hurricane-force wind, or driving a speedboat at 70 MPH on the water, or being in a car accident. Zero control.  Diva just asked if I was crying, and I told her no. “Then what do you call this, Mom? Why are you crying?”

“Because that was the last time I’ll ever drive Boo to elementary school,” I said softly. Then more loud, ugly crying. The look on her face, and her reaction was just priceless, and honestly, momentarily put the brakes on my crying.

“Well okay. I’m gonna let you handle that. Maybe you want to close the curtains to your office?” Then she walked out of my office.

My baby boy isn’t a baby anymore. He isn’t even a little kid. He’s not really a big kid, either; he’s a ‘tween’. And I’m not handling it very well.  At least I waited until he got out of the car before I started bawling.  And my little girl is getting ready to start school. Then I started to cry even bigger tears. Kids from the elementary school are playing across the street, and I’m reminded that never again, will I be able to look out my window to see my son happily playing with his friends during recess, only to look up, and lock eyes, and we both exchange smiles. Gone. Poof.

Zero control.

And it hits me. I’m not in control. I’m not in control of them physically growing. I’m not in control of their attitude, or decision-making. I’m not in control of their happiness. I’m not in control at all. These beautiful creatures are solely their own, and merely on loan to me. I only have them for so long, and then they are gone. That’s the way it is supposed to be, and the way it is. It doesn’t mean I like it, or like having to accept it. These tiny humans are so very much a part of me, and they have become how I see myself, to the point, I stopped even seeing myself at all. And perhaps, as my kids depend on me less and less, I’ll be forced to look at who I really am, and that scares the hell out of me. I’m pretty sure I’m not going to like that shell of a person. I’m afraid it may take time and a lot of pain to find ‘me’ once again. I haven’t been a priority in my own life for so long, I don’t know how. Blogging has been my only lifeline to me, and who I really am.

I am not in control, and that is okay. I’m sad, and that’s okay, too. I’m excited, and happy. I’m going to cry (a lot more), and that is seriously okay. Life is all about change. And having OCD just means it’s a little harder for me to accept, but I will; just slowly. If you have kids, you already know “slowly” isn’t in their vocabulary, and that, too, is okay. Give up, give in, have a cry, and keep reaching for that big happy! Above all, savor every moment!

Peace, ya’ll.

HotMess
About me

Ever wonder what it’s like to be a southern hot mess? Join me as I slam through life like a bull in a china shop. It’s better if you just go with it.

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