As I was walking through the bookstore the other day I saw this book and thought, “shit, there goes my idea.” [Laughing] perhaps I can recover from this catastrophe somehow. One can only hope. Maybe if I add a spin on it and name the book, “How To Be Happy–While Living in a Port-O-Potty.” Of course, that would require me to go homeless, which is plausible I suppose. In fact, as I was walking to class the other day I felt like I had somehow become the embodiment of Will Smith in film The Pursuit of Happiness. I am being a little melodramatic.
Tonight it took me two minutes to answer the question , “black or pinto beans.” I didn’t want to blabber pinto amidst tears, so I just stood there fighting them and then was finally able to speak, “black.” I changed my mind two seconds later to pinto, instead. Then, since I was ordering vegetarian, the guy said to me, “you know they have bacon!” Like I’m some kind of vegetarian sinner, he cast his guilty eye, “yes, I know they are “roasted” in bacon, whatever, if I ever find an actual piece in there I will let you know. Hasn’t happened yet.
I considered eating my burrito at Chipotle, but I eventually decided to take it home. Then I sat at my table and stared at the beautiful flowers sent to me just yesterday. About midway though I couldn’t take it any longer, so I just laid my head down and cried. Little e wasn’t sent home on his flight today, and I miss him. I’m exhausted, sad he won’t be to school tomorrow, and worried I won’t get to spend his birthday with him on Wednesday. Ironically, I was able to read through my last posting, which forced me to remember what it means to be a mother. It means that sometimes we have to do hard things, sometimes we have to make sacrifices (and our children have to make sacrifices) in order to grow together. I think that’s what makes the best moms. It’s not the ones who stay home with their kids (although some would argue this is), or those who know how to construct the perfect cupcake for their child’s birthday party, or even those who breastfeed for two years and let not an ounce of formula touch the lips of their infant. It’s the mother who shows her child how much she loves him by bettering herself for him/her. It’s the mother who while bettering herself shares that betterment with her child (a gift that will keep on giving for generations to come). It’s the mother who always takes the time, no matter how busy life gets, to give her child what she can. Sometimes, when life is busy, its the little thats given that means the most.
I am missing little e tonight, and I hope tomorrow brings resolve. I hope he knows I wish I was spending time with him tonight, even though it may not be the most, it’s the most meaningful when we share it.
A whit-ing mom.
Photo taken by Angie Hill @ Google Images.