Fences

I just opened a Facebook message from a friend of mine.  In it, she wrote she was thinking of me and that I am a terrific mom.  I try.  I try every day.  Sometimes I hit it out of the park and sometimes I sound very whiny and sad.  The last couple weeks have sounded more whiny and sad than I’d like.  That actually woke me up around 4 AM–that I sounded so down and broadcast it via this blog.  I’m not.  Not always.  I just feel more compelled to write it out when I’m sad or angry or contemplative.  Writing is what allows me to get it out, so I can be there, be present for the boys the rest of the time.  I’m OK.  I hate this, but I am OK.  There is no other way to be.  I still laugh like a fool–too often, too loudly and often too inappropriately.  I dance around the house all day long and am never not singing, the kids are fed and the laundry’s done.  Life doesn’t just take a months-long time out.  I think that most of the time, no one in my house knows what lurks in my heart when I do feel like I did yesterday.  And not because I’m hiding something, but because I find the fun and happy in the mundane and revel in it.  I so appreciate my friend’s offer of conversation and support, as do I appreciate every kind thing any of you have written to me here or via email.  Truly.  Writing this blog is a substitute for having the hard conversations I would sometimes rather not.  When people ask how I am, I can say, “here, read this.”  Maybe it’s a fence, but no fences are constructed to last for all time–there’s always a way to be found over or under or around.  Just knowing I have good people in my life cracks open the gate to this fence.  I am lucky, I know this.

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