My 3 Year Old Has Said These Things

To an over easy egg sandwich. ” Yellow, stay in there!”

“How does the sun breathe? “

” Why is my arm attatched to me?”

Me- ” I’m going to go to the doctors and he’s going to take this freckle off.”
” Then he will put back on a new one?”

Me- ” I’m going to lay here to get brown from the sun. “
” But the sun is not brown. “

Me- ” That fish has lost one eye!”
” He can find it?”

” Mayme if we put tomatoe soup on this plant, it will grow a tomatoe!”
( Days later, it totally did ( Go Mom! )and he didn’t touch it- afraid it was going to break )

” Can butterflies talk? ‘Cause I don’t hear their voices’.

He sees the blood in the toilet from my period and asks, ” Momma, is your heart broken?”

 

Showing 3 year old pictures of my pregnant belly

I have shown my three year old son this morning, pictures of my pregnant belly. The following are some of his comments/questions.

“Who put me there?”

“How’d I get out?”

” I comed out?”

“What size am I now?” ( I have pictures each week of what size of fruit he was. )

“I want to go back in”, as he proceeds to push his head into my stomach.

 

What the Fook post

It’s really difficult to get a grip on life right now. It’s not stable. No matter how many moments I think it is. People affect your life in the extradionary amount that we most of the time, aren’t aware of. My heart turns three tomorrow. That’s my son. And I’ve been a terrible mother the past two months. This is such an airy vent-this post. These days,I’m kind of okay with losing everything, if it means I don’t have to feel about it. My own core person has its faults. We all do. I’m glad I can percieve mine in such a light, of workability. That i can put effort towards those strands of gunk and make them alright. I know the things I need to do. I know I’ve been post poning them. But now? Now I can’t do it much longer. After he’s three, well. I’m okay with letting it all out to where it needs to go. I know that’s whats been holding me back. I hate lying now. My guilt sucks me up into a basket of sick and my stomach doesn’t want anything to do with anything except alcohol.  I am hurt and hurting and sick and sickening. I want to get better. But I am weak and I will crack. I’m a strong pants wearing relatiopnship person. Is what I always thought. I did end all the ones I was in. But that may mean nothing. I’m saying that I’m in a spot where I’m not okay with not being smpathized with. I’m not okay with always being the one to walk after the otherI. I wont be. I will not be in a relationship where that is a case. Whether its my parents, my son, my friends. That is not what I do. It has taught me a lot. To be in this position. It’s taught me about the yucky part of love. When you’re running out the doorr and you don’t even want to but you know it will make things better even if you’re the one folding…It taught me to fold. And folding is love, to me. I’ve never folded so much. And it sucks blood out of me, and blows courage into me. I have never been this real with myself.

One of those First Day Posts

I didn’t think I wasn’t capable, just that I wasn’t the type to feel that way. I even thought about it and felt that brushing it off and getting on with my day, was how I would deal with it. So when leaving my son on his first day of daycare with a welling rise in my throat and gloss already forming on my sight, well, it kinda threw me off.
But it didn’t either.

It didn’t feel THAT weird. It just felt weird that I didn’t expect that reaction of mine.
It felt good and it felt weird that it felt good.

I had visions of him without me, interacting with unfamiliar people and being so…alone. Those images packed into my brain without warning throughout the day. I called two hours after I left him, to make sure he was doing fine. Of course he was.

I arrived 10 minutes prior to leaving time and circled the block about three times and felt like a funny mom, laughing at myself for how ridiculous and how proper all of that, all of me, was.

He survived his first day and so did I.

And the real special part was when I walked into the room and he saw me from across it and jumped off his horse and ran and ran and ran right to me with his little arms outstretched to hug my bones, my self, my life, my love and I immediatly felt cry come up my insides and curve to the ceiling and I knew I didn’t want to talk to anyone because I wouldn’t be able to form edible words and so I signed out quick and got him to the truck and talked to him all the way home about his day and loved and loved and loved. And when we got home I sat with him, close to him, with him touching my face and telling me he had missed me and holding my ears and sayin he had cried a little bit because he was ‘squared’ and ‘wanted Mommy there’.

I would never had understood any of those feelings from another parent if I had not experienced this day for myself. This day, those feelings, that love, that humanity.
Thank you heartbeat of mine, for sad and scared and wondering days like these. Where the trickling of all those sensations makes up a very, very life of a feeling. A heart swelling blooming living feeling, that you can’t forget once you know it.