Battle Hymns of a Hot Mess Mom

Of course I’m afraid to die. Yes I’m not ready but because my kids aren’t adults yet. I am so proud of them. So proud of the people they are. So proud of their heart and kindness- I hope they never lose that. Will I have a chance to see them graduate high school? Fall in love? Get married? Have children? I don’t want to miss out of that. No one knows when they are going to die. But I wish I could have the opportunity to see them grow up and become adults. Who do I beg? Who do I ask for more time? Who stamps that pass? When it’s your time, there is no begging. It’s just your time. I just stare at her and her tiny little body. She is getting a pair of scissors to open a package of thermals I ordered for her for flag football. Her voice is so young “No running with scissors Mama. That’s dangerous.” That’s right my love. That’s right. She’s washing her face and putting on her face cream. I carry nothing with me to the other side. I look at her with longing and missing. Seems silly, those memories won’t go with me. But I reach out and touch her hand and touch her face. I hold her and tell her I love her. Will she remember me when I’m gone? Will she know how much I love her?

Nothing worth having is easy. I’ll have to fight for it. I have no choice. I’ll need to fight for every second to be apart of these children’s lives. If I really want to be there, there is no other option except to fight. One step, one moment, one day at a time.

I patted his back until he stopped crying and his breaths were deeper. I told him “Mama is here. Sleep.” I didn’t want to say everything will be okay. But wanted him to know I was there. I was patting him to sleep. I kissed S goodnight and told her Id do her hair in the morning.

That was the best I could do tonight. This was my best effort. I don’t even need Baba Yaga talking – I read the results myself.