My Jiminy Cricket
Hello ye neglected blog!
A million things and hours in traffic,
Halloween party planning and throwing,
tae kwon do belt testing,
Cub scout joining,
no internet having
and old laptop owning.
All that and more
and you'll understand
why it is I can't always get
to this spot right here.
This place to stop and collect my thoughts.
I live 27 years in 24 hours
and I make dinner and check homework
and read
Harry Potter before bed
and kiss my boyfriend as we pass each other
in opposite directions
on the way in or out of the house.
I fill my mom role
and my employee role
and my girlfriend role
and sometimes it all just smears together
and I cross my fingers and hope for the best.
Sometimes who I am as Christina
crashes and burns
into who I am
as my boys' mommy.
Tonight Lucas looked me dead in the eye
and told me he was disappointed in me.
"I can't believe you're still smoking."
And I am.
I do.
After years and years of trying to stop
I haven't been able to stay stopped
and my kid is not ok with it.
Earlier this year I promised I would quit.
And I did.
And I had.
Until a few months ago when
I found myself back at the start.
I never smoke around my children
but he's on to me.
Looking in my hiding spots,
calling me out on what I
thought were
"top secret, kids in bed, late night" smokes.
My son is learning about drugs at Red Ribbon Week
and he knows cigarettes cause cancer
and tonight he said,
"Mom...I don't want you to die."
And he meant it.
And it killed me.
And I told him what he said is important,
and that I'm not going anywhere,
and that I know smoking is terrible
and want to quit but it's not that easy.
That I'm not
not quitting
because I don't understand
or care about his feelings.
That I love him so much
and I'm sorry he feels this way
and I want to make it better.
And then...
I snuck my cigarettes out of my glove box when he wasn't looking.
Because
IT'S NOT THAT EASY.
Every so often I'll sense
an obvious collision between my identity as a mother
and that of my 29 year old self.
Tonight was one of them.
When it happens,
it leaves my stomach in flips.
Last month we finally
signed Lucas up for Cub Scouts,
and the night of his first den meeting
I read an article about a 16 year old boy
being denied his Eagle Scout award
because he's gay.
And boom...confliction.
I don't know the right or wrong of it.
Where I end and they begin.
The magical formula
of maintaining autonomy
whilst mothering two children.
The grace necessary
to endure my sons' faces
as their mother's veil of perfection
begins to shift.
Knowing it will eventually fall.
