Showing posts from February, 2018

I'm just a mom

I'm just a mom.  I stay at home with my kids, but really, my kids are all in school now.  So, I guess the more accurate description is that I am a mom who stays at home alone.  I've looked for jobs over the past few months, and the few things I've tried have fallen through.  Admittedly, I haven't tried very hard.

There are days when I think about the potential income I am missing out on, and how it could provide us with more fun opportunities.  There are days when I don't feel very useful, and truthfully, unneeded.  No one gives me a pat on the back for emptying the dishwasher, or making sure we have clean towels.  I won't be getting a review for how many times a week I help with homework, which is probably a good thing because I hate it.  The thank you's are few and far between, and the work is mundane.

When I was in fifth grade I did a book report on Florence Nightingale, the renowned nurse.  I remember telling my mom that I wanted to be like her someday,…

When loss is gain

Dinner is before us, and we sit down to eat with old acquaintances who are becoming new friends.  We listen to chapters of their unknown story, and we share paragraphs of ours.  The bread is broken, and I see how pieces of us are too.  But we enjoy the meal because in this moment, we are in the mess of it together.

We talk about the home we sold before moving to Nicaragua, and the memories we left behind.  My thoughts catch me by surprise, and I feel the emotion of that goodbye all over again.  I blink several times to keep my unexpected tears from falling in the stroganoff.  I know that the truth is, I don't miss that house anymore.  If I had the opportunity to move back today, I wouldn't.  But remembering the release of it touches some tender place in me.

It was a sunny day in August when we turned away for the last time.  My little girls and I walked the empty hallways, and past the marks on the walls that measured their growth for years.  We sat on the floor of their emp…

Love's standing ovation

I was grumpy the day he was born.

He didn't come when I wanted, or in the way I wanted him to.

He hadn't done what babies are suppose to do when they head out into the world.  Instead, he flipped himself around and lodged himself underneath my ribs, a literal pain in my side.

He paid for his choice with an abnormally shaped head for the first few months of his life.  Although, he didn't seem to mind not fitting in with all of the other babies.  I put a hat on him to cover up the differences.

They had held his red, wrinkly body up for me to see, but my brain was already drifting from the pain medication.  And while the room was still spinning, they placed him in my arms and wheeled me into recovery.  All of my mental protests couldn't convince the nurses that I wasn't ready to hold him.  This is, after all, what mothers do.

He was just shy of eight pounds, but I felt the true weight of that moment.  I was sure he was going to fall right out of my arms and onto the …