121107 - No Crack Like Baby Joy

I think it only gets harder.

Honestly, the older I get, the more difficult it can be to handle the awful truths of every day life. The shit in the floor I just mopped, the messes, the little, imperfect things that totally piss me off and make me want to pull my hair out. They just start building up like this giant tower of bullshit that I'm never going to get rid of...and with my OCD and the tendency I have toward bitch...I sometimes feel like I'm going to lose it.

On those days, more than any other, I stop and hug my child. Like a meditation. I throw what ever meaningless thing I have in my hands away; dishes, dusting, homework, books, journals, bills, I put it away literally, out of sight and out of mind, and I hug my kid, while sitting in the floor. Even if he's the thing making me want to fucking punch something and go outside and smoke 11 packs of cigarettes that I so desperately want and do 9 shots of the best booze I can find...I hug him, and smell his hair, dirty, clean, whatever, and I think...would what I'm pissed about matter to him? The innocent, perfect, guileless, joyful kid I created...and if it wouldn't, I leave it until after I've sat in the floor and played and given him enough of my time to satisfy me that he's sure I love him and am not angry at him...and by the time that happens, I'm usually feeling pretty fucking good...because, I'll tell you...there is no crack like baby joy. There really isn't. With my hubby out of town 3 nights of the week and school and research on top of mommyhood...I'm finding more and more that in mommyhood, I've found my zen.