Being Bita

Claudia's move has totally been on my mind lately, that and a quote from a friend, "I'm toast", in regards to his children now being grown. I get it, I totally do, as the unrelenting demands upon me have been mammothly memorable. Oh my goodness, it's, "Mom! Mom!, Mom!" all the time with exclamation marks apparently a prerequisite.

Silence has become my best friend that is usually awfully elusive. I crave it though. And nowadays the dozen kids at home are quite pleasant, a little challenged behaviorally, but bonded and overall a fun bunch.

Yesterday it was, "Bita! Bita! Bita!" as three of my daughters fulfilled their work obligations, three women who've chosen to put their parenting as a priority, not often needing a babysitter, working around their husband's schedules, allowing their kids to be at home rather than day care. I so admire that.

Marissa told CJ, "My mom hadda go to work today," to which CJ replied, "My mom doesn't work."

Yes she does, writing up home studies, supervising adoptions, teaching PATH classes, but CJ's never felt that he was shunted aside as Chuck, his daddy, filled in the gap.

I found it hilarious that he'd say that. Yolie was inside my house typing up reports while the kids played outside with me piddling in the front gardens, dragging her laptop over here.

Marissa's mom, Marcela, works when her husband comes home from his punishingly early shift at that begins at 3 each morning, allowing Marissa the freedom of her own home and the comfort of either parent almost always being with her.

Sarah's an accountant with an office in her home, which should've been predictable as her love for office supplies and the now defunct stationary stores has been legendary, passed down from Grandma to her. We must've all inhaled too many fresh ditto master sheets way back when.

Allen was helping me repair a swing when Tabby and Ray started hollering that Nando had fallen. I couldn't leave Marissa, Hazel and Mae unattended at the swings, I never place teenage boys in a babysitting position, are you kidding me? Like they focus? I sent Tabby running to get Yolie, knowing I'd need a first aid backup, Ray ran across the front for Lily and Sabrina to come watch the girls on the swing.

Nando had jumped/swung like Tarzan/stumbled/fallen out of a tree and landed on a stump in the ground, gashing open his foot. He'd recently been clotheslined by yarn that Tabby had inexplicably strung between two trees, he'd had a CT scan on his neck that'd been paining him, plus the slight concussion he'd sustained at the soccer park. He is all boy, lemme tell ya. Full steam ahead 24-7, active, strong and physically involved at all times in every activity, throttle wide open, high gear and full intensity. This is a boy who was born to live out in the country, a city would've stifled him instantly.

Blood everywhere, I swooned. I just can't stand medical stuff nor seeing my children hurt, thankfully Yolie bandaged him up, and there are no soccer games during Spring Break, allowing my little soccer hero time to heal.

Such a nice afternoon with CW working on CJ's baseball skills, games going on in the meadow, kids on the swings, bikes, and trampolines, little three year old Marissa trotting after her four year old country cousins, Hazel and Mae, who seemed remarkably agile and fast in contrast. Just a completely wonderful day, but the words, "I'm toast," echoing in my mind, as I know I'm tired. I'm slap worn out from all the adrenaline that has surely shaved years off my life span. I'm emotionally a stunted robot, very banged up by our upside down world in which trauma has reigned.

I certainly have the energy needed to finish running this race, but that it is now easier and just plain out safe, now that I've paused to catch my breath, I reflect back upon all that which we survived, and I'm stunned at the thought of all we endured. I'm blown away, and not just a little bit angry and resentful regarding all the destruction, fury and temper dysregulation that I've witnessed.

Shaking it off, practicing deep breathing, praying for everyone's emotional healing, and continuing forward.

I'd have a cow if I were in Claudia's shoes, having to move a hundred miles. I tried imagining what the heck I'd do?

What would I do about all my grandchildren? What would I do about the schools? What about my grown kids or the kids at home? Starting over? A new therapist? (Oh, I don't think so.) What about my gardens? My hens? My church? My friends? My wood chip connection? The chicken coop? My dogs? My greenhouse?

Just cleaning out my own bedroom after 19 years in one place was quite the ordeal, and I'd been decluttering already for years. My room has been completed, but all the plants are still down on the front porch.

I'm toast, Claudia likely isn't so yet. I'm ten years older than she is, I've parented since I was 19 years old. Her awesome husband, Bart's, career is a priority here as he moves up, I get it. I'm a Methodist PK. I'm just glad that I don't have to consider that, that I can pick and choose where I stay. Her head's gotta be swimming with all the facets this move will entail.

I'm going to sit here on this property that I'm reluctant even to leave to go buy the toilet tissue paper that I gotta pick up this morning at the store. My roots run so deep, entangled in the fibrous, deep roots of my perennials.

Another chilly start to a Spring morning, it's gonna be close to 90 degrees within the next couple of days, I so can't wait, this chilliness totally sucks for me.