wild animals

23 Jun

A borrowed story:

I spend so much of the day … [talking] about not yelling and the f-word and the c-word and patience and how Ramen is not an appropriate breakfast for a 2-year old and about please not getting married because he’s going to take your disability check and not using the other f-word and what movie we’re going to watch later when everyone’s babies go to sleep, and how to cook rice and indoor voices and panhandling and curfew and laundry and baby puke and laundry and laundry and laundry and graduating and not lying about it.

I think of constant trauma and alcoholism and serious abandonment/isolation/co-dependent issues, and emotional, physical, and sexual abuse, and adoption, and calling DCFS and how maybe if someone takes your baby you fill the hole with another pregnancy. And another loss.  And then the world looks at you like you’re a wild animal or something other than a mother who has the very same feelings they do, if not more of them.

And three more potential daddies call the office phone looking for someone and they can’t even remember the girl’s correct name and I want to slam the phone on the desk, break it, and call a house meeting about boys, which wouldn’t even accomplish anything.

And some days one of our girls comes back from the store with a bag of green apples and some oatmeal in her double stroller because even with all this, somethingone thing about being a parent stuck this week.

One Response to “wild animals”

  1. Ashleigh June 24, 2011 at 3:57 am #

    Thanks! I think I’ll keep your edits.

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