Holy cow, this year has piled on a whole shit ton of stress on my shoulders. I cried a lot. Hard. Felt defeated. Pulled myself back up to my feet after getting slammed down only to get knocked immediatly back down on my face. Succeeded in saying farewell to two men in one year. (Go ahead, judge that shit. I don’t really give a rats ass. I call it BEST DECISION EVER that after two years of being almost daily verbally and physically abused I finally got the balls to kick #1 out and when #2 informed me loud and clear in words and actions that he was nothing but useless, I got rid of him. Im already raising 6 boys, I dont need grown-up versions thankyouverymuch.) But still….pregnant and alone sucks ass. Hard. Seeing one of my dearest friends in a coma in the hospital after an attempted suicide. Tore my heart out. Lost a close friend this past spring. Buried my sons dog. Stood on my front porch while an officer took photos of my bruises and blood to file charges on my ex with. Had some so-called “friends” betray me and threaten my family. Had folks judge me and talk shit because its “not very christian” to kick your husband out…even when that man hits you. (I’m sorry, i must have missed that part of the bible that says “Thou shalt be a punching bag.” I think J.C. and I are a-okay on THAT choice.) Lost my van. Tossed and turned away many nights.
But then I got over it. No, not all at once. But as the punches were thrown I shrugged that shit off. Sometimes I ducked and other times I took the blow and breathed in deep and nursed the ache a minute or two. But always I got my ass back up. Because life is too damn short to lay down and give up. And because sonofabitchgoodlordalmighty I have these amazing beautiful wonderful marvelous young men who are watching me and maybe I’ve taught them a thing or two about mistakes because mama is a human and sometimes shes a sucker who trusts in people too much and sometimes she is really naive, but eventually she figures it out and shes no quitter.
Because at the end of it all, when my sons scatter my ashes into the wind or whatever the heck they do with me, I want them to recall my fire. My passion. My tenacity. My laugh. My silliness. My wit. My love.
Oh man, my LOVE.
I love those six boys more than I love the very air I breath. Sometimes I just look at them and think “Holy shit I MADE that!” and Im humbled and proud all at the same time and I just want to squish them in my arms until they grunt.
So, nevermind the bad shit. Screw it. Shake it off. Like dust on an old book. Wipe that shit clean and open up the cover and check out whats inside.
Its mother effing BEAUTIFUL.
This year rocked.
This year my youngest son learned how to walk.
My Snarky hippie page on Face Book took off like a freaking bullet and expanded like crazy glue and I started getting all of these amazing private messages from fans that truly made my day or week. And started getting these adorably awesome care packages from fans. And that shit always makes me cry. Because I can tell the thoughtand love that goes into those packages and it touches my heart. that total strangers really CARE about my journey and these littles and are all a part of my life now.
I started blogging again. regularly. I started singing again. Just in the shower and the kitchen. But still. I started writing my poetry again. First one I wrote was on Mothers Day when I went out hiking. There in the shade of a tree I sat and wrote. I had missed it.
I felt this belly baby move for the first time. And though I was a little sad to not have anyone to share the moment with, I was also so very deeply aware of the amazing miracle that was stirring and twirling within me and I was so very humbled by the honor of it all.
I made a lot of homemade bread with the Littles. Because kneading dough is wonderful therapy.
I tye dyed curtains for the entire house. I made pillows. I made duct tape wallets. I sewed arms back on stuffed animals. I made pies and donuts and stir fries and homemade cleaners and fixed a toilet and fixed a dryer and basically kicked ass at the whole home keeper role. And loved it.
I taught my Littles school at home. And they learned about the band Queen and concentration camps and the true history of Thanksgiving and how to make a fire in the wilderness without matches and whatever the hell else they wanted to learn about. And we read Jonathan Livingston Seagull and The BFG by Roald Dahl and The Phantom Tollbooth and The Little Prince and half of the Yearling. We had an ice cream fight outside one day. We threw water balloons. We got a slip and slide. we had an epic mud fight one day in the midst of a summer storm. We all snuggled together in my bedroom and had movie marathons and ate deliciousness on blankets like an indoor picnic. We got glow in the dark chalk and drew all over the walls and ourselves and then turned off all of the lights and danced. We built a dam at the creek. We made sculptures with the mud that we brought home and dried in the sun on our deck. We went to the chinese buffet lots. They made swords out of wooden fence spikes, decorated with paint and tape and leather and anything else they found. They cooked over our firepit. They caught fireflies in jars and kept them as night lights in mason jars by their beds. They picked me flowers. They picked all of the apples and pears off of our trees and helped me make pies and cobblers and applesauce.
I found out how incredibly free it feels to laugh out loud in my own home. Laugh until I cry. Throw my head back and laugh from my gut. and not be afraid. I quit flinching. I dance a lot now. While I clean. With my kids. Whenever. Wherever. I sing. I sing goofy songs to my kids about them cleaning their rooms or how I wish they would learn to share better and stop running through the house with muddy shoes. I let them go crazy sometimes because they CAN, they should, theyre boys. And theres no man here now to say “Im leaving because I cant handle this shit.”
I read a lot of great books.
I made some truly kick ass friends.
I stumbled over something one day and looked down and it was Happy. Just laying there like ‘Hey, I missed ya! how the hell are ya, girl?” And I was all “Holy hell its YOU! I almost forgot what you looked like.”
Adn I picked that shit up and shook her off and realized it still mother effin FIT me even though it felt like AGES since I’d been happy. And Im wearing that shit well these days.
Im not saying my life is perfect. Im just saying when you weigh the pros and cons, well, holy crappola I am pretty freakin BLESSED.
I’m sending out a special shout out to all of my readers who have touched my life this past year. You cannot even begin to understand how much your support, your words, your love, your encouragment, have truly meant to this girl. You are such a major light along my pathway and I just want to say THANK YOU. For being awesome.
Onward and upward. I have a hunch 2014 is gonna rock. Completely and totally. Because I’ve got the reigns now and Im wearing Happy and Ive got my Littles here and I cant even imagine it getting any better than this….but I’m ready if it does. Oh man, am I ready…..
Come at me 2014. Mamas got her ass-kicker boots on.