Rough Morning

This morning started out like most: The kids woke up before 6:45 and went downstairs to play quietly (and not wake mom). I woke up at 6:45, looked in their empty room and called downstairs to tell them it was time to come upstairs and get ready for the day. Both called out a resounding “no”. *sigh* Mr Siili chimes in that it is time to get ready and to listen to mom. Tadbit comes upstairs a few minutes later and starts getting ready. When Paxlet comes up, his first words are accusatory and angry that I have moved his white paper. It is always my fault when something goes missing or wrong. Even if I wasn’t anywhere near the place or situation. (This time I had actually cleaned the area in question the night before.) Our words immediately become snappy, heated and not pleasant for first words on a Monday morning. Mr Siili comes and separates us and calms the situation down a bit. Once I’m ready, I head downstairs to help Paxlet look for his white square of paper that is “this big”. I find all sorts of papers and then some, but not the paper he wants, which is actually a ‘package’ with treasures/jewels wrapped in it. I vaguely remember seeing something like that, but have no idea where it ended up. I spend 5-10 minutes helping him look for his paper. No luck. However, other pieces of paper are finding their way back to the floor! Every time I turn around there is more paper crap on the floor that wasn’t there literally 5 minutes ago. Paxlet insists he needs a specific conglomerate of taped paper/plastic on the floor, but he can’t tell me why. Can’t? Won’t? Doesn’t know how? I have no idea at this point. More heated words from Paxlet and I. Tadbit is sitting at the table very quietly coloring. I eventually end up back stairs to get the hairbrush for Tadbit’s rat’s nest. I tell Mr Siili that this must be how I was with my mom at this age. And I start crying because I miss my mom. Both kids come up stairs and hug me. All arguments are forgotten and they are only concerned now. Paxlet asks, ‘why are you crying?’ I tell him I miss my mom and want to talk to her, but I can’t. His eyes are concerned and a bit teary. He knows my mom is dead. Tadbit just keeps saying ‘momma, mom-maaa’ over and over again trying to hold my hand. We hug and calm down. Then finish getting ready for daycare and work and head out the door.

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#MicroblogMonday – In the blink of an eye

While the 8 weeks at home with both kids felt like forever when I think of it in terms of Paxlet (sometimes). I feel like I barely remember any of the things having to do with Tadbit. She was 2 months old at the beginning of the summer “holiday” and 4 months when it was over. When did Tadbit stop being a baby baby and become a big baby?

I’m feeling a bit…sad. This is definitely the last time I will be experiencing any baby things with my own kids and it feels like they are slipping through my fingers too fast. And I know this time goes quickly, yet it is still happening!

MicroblogMonday For more microposts, go visit Mel’s post at Stirrup Queens.

Another Mother’s Day

When I was little, mother’s day was about my mom. It was nice. I knew nothing else.

Then when I wanted kids and found myself lacking for several years, mother’s day became a hard pill to swallow. But I still had my mom.

Then my mom died and I got pregnant. That first Mother’s Day, while pregnant, was difficult and bittersweet.

And every year since, Mother’s Day has been bittersweet. Some times more sweet than bitter, but often not more bitter than sweet.

Happy Mother’s Day, Robbin​! I think of you often and miss you always. It pains my heart something fierce that you’ll never get to meet my two munchkins. But I know you are near and watching over us. I hope I make you proud.
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