sometimes we have freezer burned chicken for dinner
followed closely by gummy bears.
sometimes, especially after I pick a kid up at school or ballet rehearsal, or the library
I see Moms.
Moms who manage to make rain boots look like designer shoes
And I wonder what kind of granite topped kitchens they return home to
and what their kids do while they're waiting for dinner
playing in a big basement playroom?
finding a quiet moment in their very own room?
sitting at the counter while Mom chops their daily recommended dose of veggies
on one of her many 5 foot long counters?
and then there is me.
I'm reaching into a bag of chicken nuggets, picking through the ones that are the least freezer burned.
Toaster oven. squirt of ketchup. dinner is served.
We pile on the tiny, cat ripped couch... three in a row, grabbing lite-bright colored gummy bears
elbowing each other for personal space
because there is nowhere to escape for a quiet moment.
so I surrender... I give in and sit at the table staring into space while I shovel lukewarm packaged food
without even tasting it.
I lack the energy to encourage a family board game
because playing means we all have to sit on a cold, uncomfortable wooden floor
because that's all the free space we have.
5 square feet.
and I beat myself up every minute of every day for living this way.
Today I asked Iris how it made her feel about never being able to have friends over.
She said, "I wish we didn't live here...
I wish we had more space because I want my friends to see all of my things"
her one basket of stuffed animals, and one box of toys.
that's all the room we have for her "things"
What am I doing?
Am I giving up?
becoming numb to the situation?
Or am I the Mom who may not be perky in designer rain boots
but can sure as
rock a sweatshirt like nobody's business.
Ya. I'm that Mom.