My life is a pocket, being emptied before the endless parade of pants go into the machine.
A crumpled $20 bill. It’s enough for a day – a coffee, a burger, a pretty bobble from Target – but wouldn’t make a dent in a year’s worth of bills and car payments and mortgages. My worth as a mother isn’t paid in dollars and cents, so I am both worthless and priceless.
A rubber band. My patience being pulled and stretched and twisted further and further with each temper tantrum, each unwashed dish, each crying baby. Sometimes in breaks and someone gets stung, a hurtful snap I immediately regret and I vow that next time I won’t let it get so tight.
A paper clip. Holding it all together a day at a time. Doctor’s appointments, vet appointments, car maintenance, groceries, playgroups, laundry, dishes, bedtimes, start all over. Papers papers everywhere and that file cabinet I was planning to use still empty. I need an hour a day a month to organize before I’m buried alive.
A goldfish cracker. The compromise between having a hungry, cranky toddler and eating nothing but organic, locally grown produce hand-picked by virgins under a full moon. The place where doing what is “best” for my family meets doing what is best for ME when it comes to my family and the guilt I do or do not feel when I cut corners. Sometime delicious trumps perfection.
A band-aid wrapper, the band-aid long since peeled off a skinned knee. I cover up the boo-boos, deal with the pain, pretend it’s not a big deal. I’m glad the hurt is so small but the scars are still there even after the scrape is gone.
Lint. Dog hair. My hair that is still falling out by the handful thanks to post-partum hormones. Messes of all kinds invade my space. Bits of yarn. Crumbs. Pen marks. Dirty feet. Messy faces. Playdoh ground into the carpet. Drips of milk. The remnants of a day full of fun, sunshine and creativity.
A penny. For luck. We are all healthy, clothed, fed, loved and safe. So much luck.
Bonjour! No I'm not French, it just sounded fancy. Sorry for the confusion. I'm Suzanne and the star of the show is Little Evan, who is now sharing top billing with Caroline, born December 19, 2010. I love hearing from you so if you have questions, stories or ideas to share, email me at bebehblog at gmail dot com.
{ 9 comments… read them below or add one }
i love this post.
thanks for writing it, suzanne.
And thank YOU, Sarah-Anne, for always being such a loyal commenter.
That was beautifully written. I love the idea of being both worthless and priceless – it feels so very true.
aww, mama
i never check the pockets before washing
but i did wake up this morning
tired of answering demands,
feeding faces,
mediating squabbles
these kids have no idea what i have given up for them
the body
the whiskey nights
the being funnier than everyone else
it used to be i couldnt hear enough of my own voice
and now
i hate to her the things i say
the frequency and tone with which i have to say it to be heard
and yet we are so lucky.
so VERY very lucky indeed.
This is lovely. Sometimes the simplest things in our lives can have so much meaning.
“…My worth as a mother isn’t paid in dollars and cents, so I am both worthless and priceless.” Love it. This could be a thesis unto itself. And I’m still laughing at “…eating nothing but organic, locally grown produce hand-picked by virgins under a full moon…” I forgot that goldfish are frowned upon in some circles. Now I buy the Costco 3 pack routinely. I admit that I stick with some organic items.. lollipops. I never go shopping with the kids without them. Don’t judge me.
Wonderfully written Suzanne! I love this post!
Wow, this is so lovely and such an honest description of what it means to be a mom!
I think this is beautiful. You’re so talented.