What I don’t say

I say plenty . . .

About my crazy daughter, and my perpetually injured son. I say plenty about the level of crazy I seem to always wind up in. What I don’t say is how absolutely insane I am about my kids, and how daily, I do find at least a few shreds of joy amidst my chaos (and there is a shit ton of chaos, I can assure you). I imply that these two ‘monsters’ will one day kill me, but what I don’t say is how my heart aches whenever I can’t be with one of them. I don’t say how OCD is ever-present, and has me in a chokehold a lot of days, and I’m tangled in anxiety and to-do lists, and can’t leave my house.
Today was an afternoon of sheer ugliness. Beginning at 2PM, Diva decided she would only do what’s asked if I screamed at her. Whispers and threatening glances would go ignored, along with any pathetic pleas. Begs fell into that same category, as I soon found out. By 4 PM, however, shit got real. Mommy was done, and I wasn’t about to scream in Walgreen’s. She got growls from me, and orders were barked at her. I transformed into a sort of drill sergeant pit bull. Hubs doesn’t allow yelling, so my growling, and barking continued until close to 7:30.
We all enjoyed a family movie together, beginning around 7. Diva fell asleep around 8:30, and just looking at her snuggled up next to me warmed my heart. I woke her to walk her to bed at 8:45, only to see she had not put away her Lego’s. She did that very quickly, and Boo cleaned up the bathroom from where he had showered earlier, too. Then into bed!
She & I talked, and then, for no known reason, she decided to be rude to me by taking my phone, but refusing to let me watch our nightly show, Tinkerbell, with her. She took my phone, and told me not to watch.
Ok, fine. “Goodnight,” I said coldly, then walked out of her room. Hubs rushed in to her. I tucked Boo in, and said goodnight to him, then walked away. She didn’t yell or demand I come back, but instead, cried – real tears, and a desperate plea for me to please come back because she needed me. It broke my heart. She desperately needed/wanted only me. I love that she needs me (I seriously love that about my life), but I know that she won’t always need me; not like she thinks she does now.
Suddenly, I’m not too thrilled about her starting school in a few, short weeks. She won’t need me. She may not even want me. And that terrifies me, but I don’t say that.  No, indeed! I don’t tell anyone that. I am a hot mess, and things like feelings don’t get in my way . . . Oh but they do.  That’s what I don’t say.
Partly because it’s too raw, partly because it’s not as much fun to talk or read about, but mainly because it’s just too real. It’s not funny, it doesn’t have an easy conclusion at the end; instead it is a daily cliffhanger, and that’s not what I’m here for – I’m here to be a lighthearted laugh. That’s what I don’t say.
However, in my quest to make you feel less alone, perhaps it’s time I show you that I AM just like you – life touches me, and it changes me. You truly are NOT alone in whatever you are battling, I promise. We are all scared. Cancer, divorce, death, losing a job, going broke, missing out on an opportunity, being alone, growing old; they are all legit reasons to be afraid, and to be overwhelmed, but they are NOT a reason to stop living. You deserve happiness. So, you do what you have to do to get your happy. For me, I’m already planning a perfect Mommy Daughter day for tomorrow – while I lay in Divas bed cuddling with her and just watching her sleep. Her face changes every time I look at it. Tomorrow, I will brave the OCD monster, but for now, not so much.
Peace, y’all.
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.


July 22, 2017
Found My Zen
July 22, 2017
southern hot mess
Oh, and bacon!
June 04, 2017
Zero Control
May 31, 2017
No words for the last seven days
May 20, 2017
Southern hot mess
Third Row Problem
April 10, 2017
Some wounds don’t heal
March 14, 2017
I love my friends
November 03, 2016
southern hot mess
Southern. Hot. Mess.
November 01, 2016

Leave a comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *